WHERE 
THERE'S 

4 


WILL 


MARY 
ROBERTS 
RINEHART 


°t  ' 


Not — not  Dicky   Carter !  "   she   cried. 


WHERE  THERE'S 
A  WILL 

BY  MARY  ROBERTS  R1NEHART 


Author  of  "The  Window  at  the  White  Cat,"  "The  Man 
in  Lower  Ten,"  "When  a  Man  Marries,"  etc. 


WITH  FOUR   ILLUSTRATIONS 
BY  F.  VAUX  WILSON 


A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS  NEW  YORK 


COPYRIGHT  1912 
THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPAMT 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 
I 
II 
III 

IV 

I  HAVE  A  WARNING        . 

Miss  PATTY  ARRIVES       .       M       .        . 
A  WILL    .        .        •        •        M        *       • 

PAGE 

1 

.      12 
.      20 
30 

V 

WANTED  —  AN  OWNER     .... 

.      43 

VI 

54 

VII 

MR.  PIERCE  ACQUIRES  A  WIFE 

.      62 

VIII 

AND  MR.  MOODY  INDIGESTION  . 

.      77 

IX 

DOLLY,  How  COULD  You? 

.      96 

X 

ANOTHER  COMPLICATION    .... 

.     115 

XI 

Miss  PATTY'S  PRINCE      .... 

.     126 

XII 

140 

XIII 

THE  PRINCE  —  PRINCIPALLY      .        .-,        . 

.     152 

XIV 

PIERCE   DISAPPROVES         .... 

.    161 

XV 

THE  PRINCE,  WITH  APOLOGIES 

.    170 

XVI 

STOP,  THIEF  !    

.     177 

XVII 

A  BUNCH  OF  LETTERS      .... 

.     187 

XVIII 

Miss  COBB'S  BURGLAR      .        .        *        .. 

.     198 

XIX 

No  MARRIAGE  IN  HEAVEN 

.    205 

XX 

EVERY  DOG  HAS  His  DAY        .        .        .• 

.    218 

XXI 

THE  MUTINY    ...... 

.    228 

XXII 

HOME  TO  ROOST                                 .        « 

.    241 

XXIII 

BACK  TO  NATURE     .        .        .        .        « 

.    253 

XXIV 

LIKE  DUCKS  TO  WATER    .        .        «        , 

.    265 

XXV 

282 

XXVI 

OVER  THE  FENCE  Is  OUT          .        .        ,: 

.    297 

XXVII 

A  CUPBOARD  FULL  OF  RYE 

.    310 

XXVIII 

LOVE,  LOVE,  LOVE     

.    321 

XXIX 

A  BIG  NIGHT  TO-NIGHT     .... 

.    330 

XXX 

LET  GOOD  DIGESTION        .... 

.    344 

WHERE  THERE'S  A  WILL 


WHERE 
THERE'S  A  WILL 

CHAPTER  I 

I    HAVE   A    WARNING 

WHEN  it  was  all  over  Mr.  Sam  came  out  to 
the  spring-house  to  say  good-by  to  me  be- 
fore he  and  Mrs.  Sam  left.  I  hated  to  see  him  go, 
after  all  we  had  been  through  together,  and  I  sup- 
pose he  saw  it  in  my  face,  for  he  came  over  close 
and  stood  looking  down  at  me,  and  smiling.  "You 
saved  us,  Minnie,"  he  said,  "and  I  needn't  tell  ..you 
we're  grateful;  but  do  you  know  what  I  think?"  he 
asked,  pointing  his  long  forefinger  at  me.  "I  think 
you've  enjoyed  it  even  when  you  were  suffering 
most.  Red-haired  women  are  born  to  intrigue,  as 
the  sparks  fly  upward." 

"Enjoyed  it !"  I  snapped.    "I'm  an  old  woman  be- 
fore my  time,  Mr.  Sam.     What  with  trailing  back 

I 


2  WHERE   THERE'S    A   WILL 

and  forward  through  the  snow  to  the  shelter-house, 
and  not  getting  to  bed  at  all  some  nights,  and  my 
heart  going  by  fits  and  starts,  as  you  may  say,  and 
half  the  time  my  spinal  marrow  fairly  chilled — not 
to  mention  putting  on  my  overshoes  every  morning 
from  force  of  habit  and  having  to  take  them  off 
again,  I'm  about  all  in." 

"It's  been  the  making  of  you,  Minnie,"  he  said, 
eying  me,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets.  "Look  at 
your  cheeks !  Look  at  your  disposition !  I  don't  be- 
lieve you'd  stab  anybody  in  the  back  now!" 

(Which  was  a  joke,  of  course;  I  never  stabbed 
anybody  in  the  back.) 

He  sauntered  over  and  dropped  a  quarter  into  the 
slot-machine  by  the  door,  but  the  thing  was  frozen 
up  and  refused  to  work.  I've  seen  the  time  when 
Mr.  Sam  would  have  kicked  it,  but  he  merely  looked 
at  it  and  then  at  me. 

"Turned  virtuous,  like  everything  else  around  the 
place.  Not  that  I  don't  approve  of  virtue,  Minnie, 
but  I  haven't  got  used  to  putting  my  foot  on  the 
brass  rail  of  the  bar  and  ordering  a  nut  sundse. 
Hook  the  money  out  with  a  hairpin,  Minnie,  and 
buy  some  shredded  wheat  in  remembrance  of  me." 


I    HAVE    A   WARNING  3 

He  opened  the  door  and  a  blast  of  February  wind 
rattled  the  window-frames.  Mr.  Sam  threw  out  his 
chest  under  his  sweater  and  waved  me  another 
good-by. 

"Well,  I'm  off,  Minnie,"  he  said.  "Take  care  of 
yourself  and  don't  sit  too  tight  on  the  job;  learn  to 
rise  a  bit  in  the  saddle." 

"Good-by,  Mr.  Sam!"  I  called,  putting  down 
Miss  Patty's  doily  and  following  him  to  the  door; 
"good-by;  better  have  something  before  you  start  to 
keep  you  warm." 

He  turned  at  the  corner  of  the  path  and  grinred 
back  at  me. 

"All  right,"  he  called.  "I'll  go  down  to  the  bar  and 
get  a  lettuce  sandwich !" 

Then  he  was  gone,  and  happy  as  I  was,  I  knew 
I  would  miss  him  terribly.    I  got  a  wire  hairpin  and 
went  over  to  the  slot-machine,  but  when  I  had  finally 
dug  out  the  money  I  could  hardly  see  it  for  tears. 
******* 

It  began  when  the  old  doctor  died.  I  suppose  you 
have  heard  of  Hope  Sanatorium  and  the  mineral 
spring  that  made  it  famous.  Perhaps  you  have  seen 
the  blotter  we  got  out,  with  a  flash-light  interior  of 


4  WHERE   THERE'S   A   WILL 

the  spring-house  on  it,  and  me  handing  the  old  doc- 
tor a  glass  of  mineral  water,  and  wearing  the  em- 
broidered linen  waist  that  Miss  Patty  Jennings  gave 
me  that  winter.  The  blotters  were  a  great  success. 
Below  the  picture  it  said,  "Yours  for  health,"  and 
in  the  body  of  the  blotter,  in  red  lettering,  "Your 
system  absorbs  the  health-giving  drugs  in  Hope 
Springs  water  as  this  blotter  soaks  up  ink." 

The  "Yours  for  health"  was  my  idea. 

I  have  been  spring-house  girl  at  Hope  Springs 
Sanatorium  for  fourteen  years.  My  father  had  the 
position  before  me,  but  he  took  rheumatism,  and  as 
the  old  doctor  said,  it  was  bad  business  policy  to 
spend  thousands  of  dollars  in  advertising  that  Hope 
Springs  water  cured  rheumatism,  and  then  have  fa- 
ther creaking  like  a  rusty  hinge  every  time  he  bent 
over  to  fill  a  glass  with  it. 

Father  gave  me  one  piece  of  advice  the  day  he 
turned  the  spring-house  over  to  me. 

"It's  a  difficult  situation,  my  girl,"  he  said.  "Lots 
of  people  think  it's  simply  a  matter  of  filling  a  glass 
with  water  and  handing  it  over  the  railing.  Why, 
I  tell  you  a  barkeeper's  a  high-priced  man  mostly, 
and  his  job's  a  snap  to  this.  I'd  like  to  know  how  a 


barkeeper  would  make  out  if  his  customers  came 
back  only  once  a  year  and  he  had  to  remember 
whether  they  wanted  their  drinks  cold  or  hot  or 
'chill  off'.  And  another  thing:  if  a  chap  comes 
in  with  a  tale  of  woe,  does  the  barkeeper  have  to 
ask  him  what  he's  doing  for  it,  and  listen  while  he 
tells  how  much  weight  he  lost  in  a  blanket  sweat? 
No,  sir ;  he  pushes  him  a  bottle  and  lets  it  go  at  that." 

Father  passed  away  the  following  winter.  He'd 
been  a  little  bit  delirious,  and  his  last  words  were: 
"Yes,  sir;  hot,  with  a  pinch  of  salt,  sir?"  Poor  fa- 
ther !  The  spring  had  been  his  career,  you  may  say, 
and  I  like  to  think  that  perhaps  even  now  he  is  sitting 
by  some  everlasting  spring  measuring  out  water  with 
a  golden  goblet  instead  of  the  old  tin  dipper.  I  said 
that  to  Mr.  Sam  once,  and  he  said  he  felt  quite  sure 
that  I  was  right,  and  that  where  father  was  the  wa- 
ter would  be  appreciated.  He  had  heard  of  father. 

Well,  for  the  first  year  or  so  I  nearly  went  crazy. 
Then  I  found  things  were  coming  my  way.  I've  got 
the  kind  of  mind  that  never  forgets  a  name  or  face 
and  can  combine  them  properly,  which  isn't  com- 
mon. And  when  folks  came  back  I  could  call  them 
at  once.  It  would  do  your  heart  good  to  see  some 


6  WHERE   THERE'S    A    WILL 

politician,  coming  up  to  rest  his  stomach  from  the 
free  bar  in  the  state  house  at  the  capital,  enter  the 
spring-house  where  everybody  is  playing  cards  and 
drinking  water  and  not  caring  a  rap  whether  he's 
the  man  that  cleans  the  windows  or  the  secretary  of 
the  navy.  If  he's  been  there  before,  in  sixty  seconds 
I  have  his  name  on  my  tongue  and  a  glass  of  water 
in  his  hand,  and  have  asked  him  about  the  rheuma- 
tism in  his  right  knee  and  how  the  children  are. 
And  in  ten  minutes  he's  sitting  in  a  bridge  game  and 
trotting  to  the  spring  to  have  his  glass  refilled  during 
his  dummy  hand,  as  if  he'd  grown  up  in  the  place. 
The  old  doctor  used  to  say  my  memory  was  an  asset 
to  the  sanatorium. 

He  depended  on  me  a  good  bit — the  old  doctor 
did — and  that  winter  he  was  pretty  feeble.  (He  was 
only  seventy,  but  he'd  got  in  the  habit  of  making  it 
eighty  to  show  that  the  mineral  water  kept  him 
young.  Finally  he  got  to  being  eighty,  from  think- 
ing it,  and  he  died  of  senility  in  the  end. ) 

He  was  in  the  habit  of  coming  to  the  spring-house 
every  day  to  get  his  morning  glass  of  water  and  read 
the  papers.  For  a  good  many  years  it  had  been  his 
custom  to  sit  there,  in  the  winter  by  the  wood  fire 


I    HAVE   A   WARNING  7 

and  in  the  summer  just  inside  the  open  door,  and  to 
read  off  the  headings  aloud  while  I  cleaned  around 
the  spring  and  polished  glasses. 

"I  see  the  president  is  going  fishing,  Minnie," 
he'd  say,  or  "Airbrake  is  up  to  133;  I  wish  I'd 
bought  it  that  time  I  dreamed  about  it  It  was  you 
who  persuaded  me  not  to,  Minnie." 

And  all  that  winter,  with  the  papers  full  of  ru- 
mors that  Miss  Patty  Jennings  was  going  to  marry 
a  prince,  we'd  followed  it  by  the  spring-house  fire, 
the  old  doctor  and  I,  getting  angry  at  the  Austrian 
emperor  for  opposing  it  when  we  knew  how  much 
too  good  Miss  Patty  was  for  any  foreigner,  and 
then  getting  nervous  and  fussed  when  we  read  that 
the  prince's  mother  was  in  favor  of  the  match  and 
it  might  go  through.  Miss  Patty  and  her  father 
came  every  winter  to  Hope  Springs  and  I  couldn't 
have  been  more  anxious  about  it  if  she  had  been  my 
own  sister. 

Well,  as  I  say,  it  all  began  the  very  day  the  old 
doctor  died.  He  stamped  out  to  the  spring-house 
with  the  morning  paper  about  nine  o'clock,  and  the 
wedding  seemed  to  be  all  off.  The  paper  said  the 
emperor  had  definitely  refused  his  consent  and  had 


8  WHERE  THERE'S  A  .WILE 

sent  the  prince,  who  was  his  cousin,  for  a  Japanese 
cruise,  while  the  Jennings  family  was  going  to  Mex- 
ico in  their  private  car.  The  old  doctor  was  indig- 
nant, and  I  remember  how  he  tramped  up  and  down 
the  spring-house,  muttering  that  the  girl  had  had 
a  lucky  escape,  and  what  did  the  emperor  expect  if 
beauty  and  youth  and  wealth  weren't  enough.  But 
he  calmed  down,  and  soon  he  was  reading  that  the 
papers  were  predicting  an  early  spring,  and  he  said 
we'd  better  begin  to  increase  our  sulphur  percentage 
in  the  water. 

I  hadn't  seen  anything  strange  in  his  manner, 
although  we'd  all  noticed  how  feeble  he  was  grow- 
ing, but  when  he  got  up  to  go  back  to  the  sanatorium 
and  I  reached  him  his  cane,  it  seemed  to  me  he 
avoided  looking  at  me.  He  went  to  the  door  and 
then  turned  and  spoke  to  me  over  his  shoulder. 

"By  the  way,"  he  remarked,  "Mr.  Richard  will  be 
along  in  a  day  or  so,  Minnie.  You'd  better  break  it 
to  Mrs.  Wiggins." 

Since  the  summer  before  we'd  had  to  break  Mr. 
Dick's  coming  to  Mrs.  Wiggins  the  housekeeper, 
owing  to  his  finding  her  false  front  where  it  had 
blown  out  of  a  window,  having  been  hung  up  to  dry, 


I    HAVE    A   WARNING  9 

and  his  wearing  it  to  luncheon  as  whiskers.  Mr. 
Dick  was  the  old  doctor's  grandson. 

"Humph!"  I  said,  and  he  turned  around  and 
looked  square  at  me. 

"He's  a  good  boy  at  heart,  Minnie,"  he  said. 
"We've  had  our  troubles  with  him,  you  and  I,  but 
everything  has  been  quiet  lately." 

When  I  didn't  say  anything  he  looked  discour- 
aged, but  he  had  a  fine  way  of  keeping  on  until  he 
gained  his  point,  had  the  old  doctor. 

"It  has  been  quiet,  hasn't  it?"  he  demanded. 

"I  don't  know,"  I  said;  "I  have  been  deaf  since 
the  last  explosion !"  And  I  went  down  the  steps  to 
the  spring.  I  heard  the  tap  of  his  cane  as  he  came 
across  the  floor,  and  I  knew  he  was  angry. 

"Confound  you,  Minnie,"  he  exclaimed,  "if  I 
could  get  along  without  you  I'd  discharge  you  this 
minute." 

"And  if  I  paid  any  attention  to  your  discharging 
me  I'd  have  been  gone  a  dozen  times  in  the  last 
year,"  I  retorted.  "I'm  not  objecting  to  Mr.  Dick 
coming  here,  am  I?  Only  don't  expect  me  to  burst 
into  song  about  it.  Shut  the  door  behind  you  when 
you  go  out." 


io  WHERE   THERE'S    A    WILL 

But  he  didn't  go  at  once.  He  stood  watching  me 
polish  glasses  and  get  the  card-tables  ready,  and  I 
knew  he  still  had  something  on  his  mind. 

"Minnie,"  he  said  at  last,  "you're  a  shrewd  young 
woman — maybe  more  head  than  heart,  but  that's 
well  enough.  And  with  your  temper  under  control, 
you're  a  capable  young  woman." 

"What  has  Mr.  Dick  been  up  to  now?"  I  asked, 
growing  suspicious^ 

"Nothing.  But  I'm  an  old  man,  Minnie,  a  very 
old  man." 

"Stuff  and  nonsense,"  I  exclaimed,  alarmed. 
"You're  only  seventy.  That's  what  comes  of  saying 
in  the  advertising  that  you  are  eighty — to  show  what 
the  springs  have  done  for  you.  It's  enough  to  make 
a  man  die  of  senility  to  have  ten  years  tacked  to  his 
age." 

"And  if,"  he  went  on,  "if  anything  happens  to 
me,  Minnie,  I'm  counting  on  you  to  do  what  you  can 
for  the  old  place.  You've  been  here  a  good  many 
years,  Minnie." 

"Fourteen  years  I  have  been  ladling  out  water  at 
this  spring,"  I  said,  trying  to  keep  my  lips  from 
trembling.  "I  wouldn't  be  at  home  any  place  else, 


I    HAVE   A   WARNING  n 

unless  it  would  be  in  an  aquarium.  But  don't  ask 
me  to  stay  here  and  help  Mr.  Dick  sell  the  old  place 
for  a  summer  hotel.  For  that's  what  he'll  do." 

"He  won't  sell  it,"  declared  the  old  doctor  grimly. 
"All  I  want  is  for  you  to  promise  to  stay." 

"Oh,  I'll  stay,"  I  said.  "I  won't  promise  to  be 
agreeable,  but  I'll  stay.  Somebody'll  have  to  look 
after  the  spring;  I  reckon  Mr.  Dick  thinks  it  comes 
out  of  the  earth  just  as  we  sell  it,  with  the  whole 
pharmacopoeia  in  it." 

Well,  it  made  the  old  doctor  happier,  and  I'm 
not  sorry  I  promised,  but  I've  got  a  joint  on  my 
right  foot  that  throbs  when  it  is  going  to  rain  or  I 
am  going  to  have  bad  luck,  and  it  gave  a  jump  then. 
I  might  have  known  there  was  trouble  ahead. 


CHAPTER  II 

MISS    PATTY    ARRIVES 

IT  was  pretty  quiet  in  the  spring-house  that  day 
after  the  old  doctor  left.  It  had  started  to  snow 
and  only  the  regulars  came  out.  What  with  the  old 
doctor  talking  about  dying,  and  Miss  Patty  Jennings 
gone  to  Mexico,  when  I'd  been  looking  forward  to 
her  and  her  cantankerous  old  father  coming  to  Hope 
Springs  for  February,  as  they  mostly  did,  I  was  de- 
pressed all  day.  I  got  to  the  point  where  Mr.  Moody 
feeding  nickels  into  the  slot-machine  with  one  hand 
and  eating  zwieback  with  the  other  made  me  nerv- 
ous. After  a  while  he  went  to  sleep  over  it,  and 
when  he  had  slipped  a  nickel  in  his  mouth  and  tried 
to  put  the  zwieback  in  the  machine  he  muttered 
something  and  went  up  to  the  house. 

I  was  glad  to  be  alone.  I  drew  a  chair  in  front 
of  the  fire  and  wondered  what  I  would  do  if  the  old 
doctor  died,  and  what  a  fool  I'd  been  not  to  be  a 
school-teacher,  which  is  what  I  studied  for.  I  was 

12 


MISS   PATTY   ARRIVES  13 

thinking  to  myself  bitterly  that  all  that  my  experi- 
ence in  the  spring  fitted  me  for  was  to  be  a  mermaid, 
when  I  heard  something  running  down  the  path,  and 
it  turned  out  to  be  Tillie,  the  diet  cook. 

She  slammed  the  door  behind  her  and  threw  the 
Finleyville  evening  paper  at  me. 

"There !"  she  said,  "I've  won  a  cake  of  toilet  soap 
from  Bath-house  Mike.  The  emperor's  consented." 

"Nonsense!"  I  snapped,  and  snatched  the  paper. 
Tillie  was  right;  the  emperor  had!  I  sat  down  and 
read  it  through,  and  there  was  Miss  Patty's  picture 
in  an  oval  and  the  prince's  in  another,  with  a  turned- 
up  mustache  and  his  hand  on  the  handle  of  his 
sword,  and  between  them  both  was  the  Austrian  em- 
peror. Tillie  came  and  looked  over  my  shoulder. 

"I'm  not  keen  on  the  mustache,"  she  said,  "but 
the  sword's  beautiful — and,  oh,  Minnie,  isn't  he  ar- 
istocratic? Look  at  his  nose!" 

But  I'm  not  one  to  make  up  my  mind  in  a  hurry, 
and  I'd  heard  enough  talk  about  foreign  marriages 
in  the  years  I'd  been  dipping  out  mineral  water  to 
make  me  a  skeptic,  so  to  speak. 

"I'm  not  so  sure,"  I  said  slowly.  "You  can't  tell 
anything  by  that  kind  of  a  picture.  If  he  was  even 


14  WHERE   THERE'S   A   WILL 

standing  beside  a  chair  I  could  get  a  line  on  him. 
He  may  be  only  four  feet  high." 

"Then  Miss  Jennings  wouldn't  love  him,"  de- 
clared Tillie.  "How  do  you  reckon  he  makes  his 
mustache  point  up  like  that?" 

"What's  love  got  to  do  with  it?"  I  demanded. 
"Don't  be  a  fool,  Tillie.  It  takes  more  than  two 
people's  pictures  in  a  newspaper  with  a  red  heart 
around  them  and  an  overweight  cupid  above  to  make 
a  love-match.  Love's  a  word  that's  used  to  cover  a 
good  many  sins  and  to  excuse  them  all." 

"She  isn't  that  kind,"  said  Tillie.  "She's — she's 
as  sweet  as  she's  beautiful,  and  you're  as  excited  as 
I  am,  Minnie  Waters,  and  if  you're  not,  what  have 
you  got  the  drinking  glass  she  used  last  winter  put 
on  the  top  shelf  out  of  reach  for?"  She  went  to  the 
door  and  slammed  it  open.  "Thank  heaven  I'm  not 
a  dried-up  old  maid,"  she  called  back  over  her  shoul- 
der, "and  when  you're  through  hugging  that  paper 
you  can  send  it  up  to  the  house." 

Well,  I  sat  there  and  thought  it  over,  Miss  Patty, 
or  Miss  Patricia,  being,  so  to  speak,  a  friend  of 
mine.  They'd  come  to  the  Springs  every  winter  for 
years.  Many  a  time  she'd  slipped  away  from  her 


MISS    PATTY    ARRIVES  15 

governess  and  come  down  to  the  spring-house  for  a 
chat  with  me,  and  we'd  make  pop-corn  together  by 
my  open  fire,  and  talk  about  love  and  clothes,  and 
even  the  tariff,  Miss  Patty  being  for  protection, 
which  was  natural,  seeing  that  was  the  way  her  fa- 
ther made  his  money,  and  I  for  free  trade,  especially 
in  the  winter  when  my  tips  fall  off  considerable. 

And  when  she  was  younger  she  would  sit  back 
from  the  fire,  with  the  corn-popper  on  her  lap  and 
her  cheeks  as  red  as  cranberries,  and  say :  "I  don't 
know  why  I  tell  you  all  these  things,  Minnie,  but 
Aunt  Honoria's  funny,  and  I  can't  talk  to  Dorothy ; 
she's  too  young,  you  know.  Well,  he  said — "  only 
every  winter  it  was  a  different  "he." 

In  my  wash-stand  drawer  I'd  kept  all  the  clippings 
about  her  coming  out  and  the  winter  she  spent  in 
Washington  and  was  supposed  to  be  engaged  to  the 
president's  son,  and  the  magazine  article  that  told 
how  Mr.  Jennings  had  got  his  money  by  robbing 
widows  and  orphans,  and  showed  the  little  frame 
house  where  Miss  Patty  was  born — as  if  she's  had 
anything  to  do  with  it.  And  so -now  I  was  cutting 
out  the  picture  of  her  and  the  prince  and  the  article 
underneath  which  told  how  many  castles  she'd  have, 


i6 

and  I  don't  mind  saying  I  was  sniffling  a  little  bit, 
for  I  couldn't  get  used  to  the  idea.  And  suddenly 
the  door  closed  softly  and  there  was  a  rustle  behind 
me.  When  I  turned  it  was  Miss  Patty  herself.  She 
saw  the  clipping  immediately,  and  stopped  just  in- 
side the  door. 

"You,  too,"  she  said.  "And  we've  come  all  this 
distance  to  get  away  from  just  that." 

"Well,  I  shan't  talk  about  it,"  I  replied,  not  hold- 
ing out  my  hand,  for  with  her,  so  to  speak,  next 
door  to  being  a  princess — but  she  leaned  right  over 
and  kissed  me.  I  could  hardly  believe  it. 

"Why  won't  you  talk  about  it?"  she  insisted, 
catching  me  by  the  shoulders  and  holding  me  off. 
"Minnie,  your  eyes  are  as  red  as  your  hair!" 

"I  don't  approve  of  it,"  I  said.  "You  might  as 
well  know  it  now  as  later,  Miss  Patty.  I  don't  be- 
lieve in  mixed  marriages.  I  had  a  cousin  that  mar- 
ried a  Jew,  and  what  with  him  making  the  children 
promise  to  be  good  on  the  Talmud  and  her  trying  to 
raise  them  with  the  Bible,  the  poor  things  is  that 
mixed  up  that  it's  pitiful." 

She  got  a  little  red  at  that,  but  she  sat  down  and 
took  up  the  clipping. 


MISS    PATTY   ARRIVES  17 

"He's  much  better  looking  than  that,  Minnie," 
she  said  soberly,  "and  he's  a  good  Catholic.  But  if 
that's  the  way  you  feel  we'll  not  talk  about  it.  I've 
had  enough  trouble  at  home  as  it  is." 

"I  guess  from  that  your  father  isn't  crazy  about 
it,"  I  remarked,  getting  her  a  glass  of  spring  water. 
The  papers  had  been  full  of  how  Mr.  Jennings  had 
forbidden  the  prince  the  house  when  he  had  been  in 
America  the  summer  before. 

"Certainly  he's  crazy  about  it — almost  insane!" 
she  said,  and  smiled  at  me  in  her  old  way  over  the 
top  of  the  glass.  Then  she  put  down  the  glass  and 
came  over  to  me.  "Minnie,  Minnie,"  she  said,  "if 
you  only  knew  how  I've  wanted  to  get  away  from 
the  newspapers  and  the  gossips  and  come  to  this 
smelly  little  spring-house  and  talk  things  over  with 
a  red-haired,  sharp-tongued,  mean-dispositioned 
spring-house  girl — !" 

And  with  that  I  began  to  blubber,  and  she  came, 
into  my  arms  like  a  baby. 

"You're  all  I've  got,"  I  declared,  over  and  over,! 
"and  you're  going  to  live  in  a  country  where  they 
harness  women  with  dogs,  and  you'll  never  hear  an 
English  word  from  morning  to  night." 


1 8  WHERE   THERE'S   A   WILL 

"Stuff !"  She  gave  me  a  little  shake.  "He  speaks 
as  good  English  as  I  do.  And  now  we're  going  to 
stop  talking  about  him — you're  worse  than  the  news- 
papers." She  took  off  her  things  and  going  into  my 
closet  began  to  rummage  for  the  pop-corn.  "Oh, 
how  glad  I  am  to  get  away,"  she  sang  out  to  me. 
"We're  supposed  to  have  gone  to  Mexico ;  even  Dor- 
othy doesn't  know.  Where's  the  pop-corner  or  the 
corn-popper  or  whatever  you  call  it?" 

She  was  as  happy  to  have  escaped  the  reporters 
and  the  people  she  knew  as  a  child,  and  she  sat  down 
on  the  floor  in  front  of  the  fire  and  began  to  shell 
the  corn  into  the  popper,  as  if  she'd  done  it  only  the 
day  before. 

"I  guess  you're  safe  enough  here,"  I  said.  "It's 
always  slack  in  January — only  a  few  chronics  and 
the  Saturday-to-Monday  husbands,  except  a  drum- 
mer now  and  then  who  drives  up  from  Finleyville. 
It's  too  early  for  drooping  society  buds,  and  the 
chronic  livers  don't  get  around  until  late  March, 
after  the  banquet  season  closes.  It  will  be  pretty 
quiet  for  a  while." 

And  at  that  minute  the  door  was  flung  open,  and 
Bath-house  Mike  staggered  in. 


MISS    PATTY    ARRIVES  19 

"The  old  doctor!"  he  gasped.  "He's  dead,  Miss 
Minnie — died  just  now  in  the  hot  room  in  the  bath- 
house! One  minute  he  was  givin'  me  the  divil  for 
something  or  other,  and  the  next —  I  thought  he 
was  asleep." 

Something  that  had  been  heavy  in  my  breast  all 
afternoon  suddenly  seemed  to  burst  and  made  me 
feel  faint  all  over.  But  I  didn't  lose  my  head. 

"Does  anybody  know  yet?"  I  asked  quickly.  He 
shook  his  head. 

"Then  he  didn't  die  in  the  bath-house,  Mike,"  I 
said  firmly.  "He  died  in  his  bed,  and  you  know  it. 
If  it  gets  out  that  he  died  in  the  hot  room  I'll  have 
the  coroner  on  you." 

Miss  Patty  was  standing  by  the  railing  of  the 
spring.  I  got  my  shawl  and  started  out  after  Mike, 
and  she  followed. 

"If  the  guests  ever  get  hold  of  this  they'll  stam- 
pede. Start  any  excitement  in  a  sanatorium,"  I  said, 
"and  one  and  all  they'll  dip  their  thermometers  in 
hot  water  and  swear  they've  got  fever!" 

And  we  hurried  to  the  house  together. 


CHAPTER  III 

A    WILL 

WELL,  we  got  the  poor  old  doctor  moved  back 
to  his  room,  and  had  one  of  the  chamber- 
maids find  him  there,  and  I  wired  to  Mrs.  Van  Al- 
styne,  who  was  Mr.  Dicky  Carter's  sister,  and  who 
was  on  her  honeymoon  in  South  Carolina.  The  Van 
Alstynes  came  back  at  once,  in  very  bad  tempers, 
and  we  had  the  funeral  from  the  preacher's  house 
in  Finleyville  so  as  not  to  harrow  up  the  sanatorium 
people  any  more  than  necessary.  Even  as  it  was  a 
few  left,  but  about  twenty  of  the  chronics  stayed, 
and  it  looked  as  if  we  might  be  able  to  keep  going. 

Miss  Patty  sent  to  town  for  a  black  veil  for  me, 
and  even  went  to  the  funeral.  It  helped  to  take  my 
mind  off  my  troubles  to  think  who  it  was  that  was 
holding  my  hand  and  comforting  me,  and  when, 
toward  the  end  of  the  service,  she  got  out  her  hand- 
kerchief and  wiped  her  eyes  I  was  almost  overcome, 

20 


A   WILL  21 

she  being,  so  to  speak,  in  the  very  shadow  of  a 
throne. 

After  it  was  all  over  the  relatives  gathered  in  the 
sun  parlor  of  the  sanatorium  to  hear  the  will — Mr. 
Van  Alstyne  and  his  wife  and  about  twenty  more 
who  had  come  up  from  the  city  for  the  funeral  and 
stayed  over — on  the  house. 

Well,  the  old  doctor  left  me  the  buttons  for  his 
full  dress  waistcoat  and  his  favorite  copy  of  Gray's 
Anatomy.  I  couldn't  exactly  set  up  housekeeping 
with  my  share  of  the  estate,  but  when  the  lawyer 
read  that  part  of  the  will  aloud  and  a  grin  went 
around  the  room  I  flounced  out  of  my  chair. 

"Maybe  you  think  I'm  disappointed,"  I  said,  look- 
ing hard  at  the  family,  who  weren't  making  any 
particular  pretense  at  grief,  and  at  the  house  people 
standing  around  the  door.  "Maybe  you  think  it's 
funny  to  see  an  unmarried  woman  get  a  set  of  waist- 
coat buttons  and  a  medical  book.  Well,  that  set  of 
buttons  was  the  set  he  bought  in  London  on  his  wed- 
ding trip,  and  the  book's  the  one  he  read  himself  to 
sleep  with  every  night  for  twenty  years.  I'm  proud 
to  get  them." 

Mr.  Van  Alstyne  touched  me  on  the  arm. 


22          WHERE  THERE'S   A  .WILL 

"Everybody  knows  how  loyal  you've  been,  Min- 
nie," he  assured  me.  "Now  sit  down  like  a  good 
girl  and  listen  to  the  rest  of  the  will." 

"While  I'm  up  I  might  as  well  get  something  else 
off  my  mind,"  I  said.  "I  know  what's  in  that  will, 
but  I  hadn't  anything  to  do  with  it,  Mr.  Van  Al- 
styne.  He  took  advantage  of  my  being  laid  up  with 
influenza  last  spring." 

They  thought  that  was  funny,  but  a  few  minutes 
later  they  weren't  so  cheerful.  You  see  the  sanato- 
rium was  a  mighty  fine  piece  of  property,  with  a 
deer  park  and  golf  links.  We'd  had  plenty  of  offers 
to  sell  it  for  a  summer  hotel,  but  we'd  both  been 
dead  against  it.  That  was  one  of  the  reasons  for 
the  will. 

The  whole  estate  was  left  to  Dicky  Carter,  who 
hadn't  been  able  to  come,  owing  to  his  being  laid  up 
with  an  attack  of  mumps.  The  family  sat  up  and 
nodded  at  one  another,  or  held  up  its  hands,  but 
when  they  heard  there  was  a  condition  they  breathed 
easier. 

Beginning  with  one  week  after  the  reading  of  the 
will — and  not  a  day  later — Mr.  Dick  was  to  take 
charge  of  the  sanatorium  and  to  stay  there  for  two 


A   WILL  23 

months  without  a  day  off.  If  at  the  end  of  that 
time  the  place  was  being  successfully  conducted  and 
could  show  that  it  hadn't  lost  money,  the  entire 
property  became  his  for  keeps.  If  he  failed  it  was 
/to  be  sold  and  the  money  given  to  charity. 

You  would  have  to  know  Richard  Carter  to  under- 
stand the  excitement  the  will  caused.  Most  of  us,  I 
reckon,  like  the  sort  of  person  we've  never  dared  to 
be  ourselves.  The  old  doctor  had  gone  to  bed  at  ten 
o'clock  all  his  life  and  got  up  at  seven,  and  so  he  had 
a  sneaking  fondness  for  the  one  particular  grandson 
who  often  didn't  go  to  bed  at  all.  Twice  to  my 
knowledge  when  he  was  in  his  teens  did  Dicky  Car- 
ter run  away  from  school,  and  twice  his  grand- 
father kept  him  for  a  week  hidden  in  the  shelter- 
house  on  the  golf  links.  Naturally  when  Mr.  Van 
Alstyne  and  I  had  to  hide  him  again,  which  is  fur- 
ther on  in  the  story,  he  went  to  the  old  shelter-house 
like  a  dog  to  its  kennel,  only  this  time — but  that's 
ahead,  too. 

Well,  the  family  went  back  to  town  in  a  buzz  of 
indignation,  and  I  carried  my  waistcoat  buttons  and 
my  Anatomy  out  to  the  spring-house  and  had  a  good 
cry.  There  was  a  man  named  Thoburn  who  was 


24  WHERE   THERE'S    A   WILL 

crazy  for  the  property  as  a  summer  hotel,  and  every 
time  I  shut  my  eyes  I  could  see  "Thoburn  House" 
over  the  veranda  and  children  sailing  paper  boats 
in  the  mineral  spring. 

Sure  enough,  the  next  afternoon  Mr.  Thoburn 
drove  out  from  Finleyville  with  a  suit  case,  and  be- 
fore he'd  taken  off  his  overcoat  he  came  out  to  the 
spring-house. 

"Hello,  Minnie,"  he  exclaimed.  "Does  the  old 
man's  ghost  come  back  to  dope  the  spring,  or  do 
you  do  it  ?" 

"I  don't  know  what  you  are  talking  about,  Mr. 
Thoburn,"  I  retorted  sharply.  "If  you  don't  know 
that  this  spring  has  its  origin  in — " 

"In  Schmidt's  drug  store  down  in  Finleyville!" 
he  finished  for  me.  "Oh,  I  know  all  about  that 
spring,  Minnie !  Don't  forget  that  my  father's  cows 
used  to  drink  that  water  and  liked  it.  I  leave  it  to 
you,"  he  said,  sniffing,  "if  a  self-respecting  cow 
wouldn't  die  of  thirst  before  she  drank  that  stuff 
as  it  is  now." 

I'd  been  filling  him  a  glass — it  being  a  matter 
of  habit  with  me — and  he  took  it  to  the  window  and 
held  it  to  the  light. 


A   WILL  25 

"You're  getting  careless,  Minnie,"  he  said,  squint- 
ing at  it.  "Some  of  those  drugs  ought  to  be  dis- 
solved first  in  hot  water.  There's  a  lump  of  lithia 
there  that  has  Schmidt's  pharmacy  label  on  it." 

"Where?"  I  demanded,  and  started  for  it.  He 
laughed  at  that,  and  putting  the  glass  down,  he  came 
over  and  stood  smiling  at  me. 

"As  ingenuous  as  a  child,"  he  said  in  his  mocking 
way,  "a  nice,  little  red-haired  child !  Minnie,  how  old 
is  this  young  Carter?" 

"Twenty-three." 

"An — er — earnest  youth  ?  Willing  to  buckle  down 
to  work  and  make  the  old  place  go?  Ready  to  pat 
the  old  ladies  on  the  shoulder  and  squeeze  the  young 
ones'  hands?" 

"He's  young,"  I  said,  "but  if  you're  counting  on 
his  being  a  fool — " 

"Not  at  all,"  he  broke  in  hastily.  "If  he  hasn't 
too  much  character  he'll  probably  succeed.  I  hope 
he  isn't  a  fool.  If  he  isn't,  oh,  friend  Minnie,  he'll 
stand  the  atmosphere  of  this  Garden  of  Souls  for 
about  a  week,  and  then  he'll  kill  some  of  them  and 
escape.  Where  is  he  now?" 

"He's  been  sick,"  I  said.    "Mumps!" 


26  WHERE   THERE'S   A   WILL 

"Mumps!  Oh,  my  aunt!"  he  exclaimed,  and  fell 
to  laughing.  He  was  still  laughing  when  he  got  to 
the  door. 

"Mumps !"  he  repeated,  with  his  hand  on  the  knob. 
"Minnie,  the  old  place  will  be  under  the  hammer  in 
three  weeks,  and  if  you  know  what's  good  for  you, 
you'll  sign  in  under  the  new  management  while 
there's  a  vacancy.  You've  been  the  whole  show 
here  for  so  long  that  it  will  be  hard  for  you  to  line 
up  in  the  back  row  of  the  chorus." 

"If  I  were  you,"  I  said,  looking  him  straight  in 
the  eye,  "I  wouldn't  pick  out  any  new  carpets  yet, 
Mr.  Thoburn.  I  promised  the  old  doctor  I'd  help 
Mr.  Dick,  and  I  will." 

"So  you're  actually  going  to  fight  it  out,"  he  said, 
grinning.  "Well,  the  odds  are  in  your  favor.  You 
are  two  to  my  one." 

"I  think  it's  pretty  even,"  I  retorted.  "We  will 
be  hindered,  so  to  speak,  by  having  certain  princi- 
ples of  honor  and  honesty.  You  have  no  handicap." 

He  tried  to  think  of  a  retort,  and  not  finding  one 
he  slammed  out  of  the  spring-house  in  a  rage. 

Mr.  Van  Alstyne  and  his  wife  came  in  that  same 
day,  just  before  dinner,  and  we  played  three-handed 


A   WILL  27 

bridge  for  half  an  hour.  As  I've  said,  they'd  been 
on  their  honeymoon,  and  they  were  both  sulky  at 
having  to  stay  at  the  Springs.  It  was  particularly 
hard  on  Mrs.  Van  Alstyne,  because,  with  seven 
trunks  of  trousseau  with  her,  she  had  to  put  on  black. 
But  she  used  to  shut  herself  up  in  her  room  in  the 
evenings  and  deck  out  for  Mr.  Sam  in  her  best 
things.  We  found  it  out  one  evening  when  Mrs. 
Biggs  set  fire  to  her  bureau  cover  with  her  alcohol 
curling-iron  heater,  and  Mrs.  Sam,  who  had  been 
going  around  in  a  black  crepe  dress  all  day,  rushed 
out  in  pink  satin  with  crystal  trimming,  and  slippers 
with  cut-glass  heels. 

After  the  first  rubber  Mrs.  Van  Alstyne  threw  her 
cards  on  the  floor  and  said  another  day  like  this 
would  finish  her. 

"Surely  Dick  is  able  to  come  now,"  she  said,  like 
a  peevish  child.  "Didn't  he  say  the  swelling  was  all 
gone?" 

"Do  you  expect  me  to  pick  up  those  cards  ?"  Mr. 
Sam  asked  angrily,  looking  at  her. 

Mrs.  Sam  yawned  and  looked  up  at  him. 

"Of  course  I  do,"  she  answered.  "If  it  wasn't 
for  you  I'd  not  have  stayed  a  moment  after  the  fu- 


28  WHERE   THERE'S   A   WILL 

neral.  Isn't  it  bad  enough  to  have  seven  trunks  full 
of  clothes  I've  never  worn,  and  to  have  to  put  on 
poky  old  black,  without  keeping  me  here  in  this  old 
ladies'  home?" 

Mr.  Sam  looked  at  the  cards  and  then  at  her. 

"I'm  not  going  to  pick  them  up,"  he  declared. 
"And  as  to  our  staying  here,  don't  you  realize  that 
if  we  don't  your  precious  brother  will  never  show 
up  here  at  all,  or  stay  if  he  does  come?  And  don't 
you  also  realize  that  this  is  probably  the  only  chance 
he'll  ever  have  in  the  world  to  become  financially 
independent  of  us?" 

"You  needn't  be  brutal,"  she  said  sharply.  "And 
it  isn't  so  bad  for  you  here  as  it  is  for  me.  You 
spend  every  waking  minute  admiring  Miss  Jennings, 
while  I — there  isn't  a  man  in  the  place  who'll  talk 
anything  but  his  joints  or  his  stomach." 

She  got  up  and  went  to  the  window,  and  Mr.  Sam 
followed  her.  Nobody  pays  any  attention  to  me  in 
the  spring-house;  I'm  a  part  of  it,  like  the  brass  rail 
around  the  spring,  or  the  clock. 

"I'm  not  admiring  Miss  Jennings,"  he  corrected, 
"I'm  sympathizing,  dear.  She  looks  too  nice  a  girl 
to  have  been  stung  by  the  title  bee,  that's  all." 


A   WILL  29 

She  turned  her  back  to  him,  but  he  pretended  to 
tuck  the  hair  at  the  back  of  her  neck  up  under  her 
comb,  and  she  let  him  do  it.  As  I  stooped  to  gather 
up  the  cards  he  kissed  the  tip  of  her  ear. 

"Listen,"  he  said,  "there's  a  scream  of  a  play 
down  at  Finleyville  to-night  called  Sweet  Peas. 
Senator  Biggs  and  the  bishop  went  down  last  night, 
and  they  say  it's  the  worst  in  twenty  years.  Put  on 
a  black  veil  and  let's  slip  away  and  see  it." 

I  think  she  agreed  to  do  it,  but  that  night  after 
dinner,  Amanda  King,  who  has  charge  of  the  news 
stand,  told  me  the  sheriff  had  closed  the  opera-house 
and  that  the  leading  woman  was  sick  at  the  hotel. 

"They  say  she  looked  funny  last  night,"  Amanda 
finished,  "and  I  guess  she's  got  the  mumps." 

Mumps ! 

My  joint  gave  a  throb  at  that  minute. 


CHAPTER  IV 

AND   A   WAY 

MR.  SAM  wasn't  taking  any  chances,  for  the 
next  day  he  went  to  the  city  himself  to  bring 
Mr.  Dick  up.  Everything  was  quiet  that  day  and 
the  day  after,  except  that  on  the  second  day  I  had  a 
difference  of  opinion  with  the  house  doctor  and  he 
left. 

The  story  of  the  will  had  got  out,  of  course,  and 
the  guests  were  waiting  to  see  Mr.  Dick  come  and 
take  charge.  I  got  a  good  bit  of  gossip  from  Miss 
Cobb,  who  had  had  her  hair  cut  short  after  a  fever 
and  used  to  come  out  early  in  the  morning  and  curl 
it  all  over  her  head,  heating  the  curler  on  the  fire 
log.  I  never  smell  burnt  hair  that  I  don't  think  of 
Miss  Cobb  trying  to  do  the  back  of  her  neck.  She 
was  one  of  our  regulars,  and  every  winter  for  ten 
years  she'd  read  me  the  letters  she  had  got  from  an 
insurance  agent  who'd  run  away  with  a  married 

30 


AND    A   WAY  31 

woman  the  day  before  the  wedding.  She  kept  them 
in  a  bundle,  tied  with  lavender  ribbon. 

It  was  on  the  third  day,  I  think,  that  Miss  Cobb 
told  me  that  Miss  Patty  and  her  father  had  had  a 
quarrel  the  day  before.  She  got  it  from  one  of  the 
chambermaids.  Mr.  Jennings  was  a  liver  case  and 
not  pleasant  at  any  time,  but  he  had  been  worse  than 
usual.  Annie,  the  chambermaid,  told  Miss  Cobb 
that  the  trouble  was  about  settlements,  and  that  the 
more  Miss  Patty  tried  to  tell  him  it  was  the  European 
custom  the  worse  he  got.  Miss  Patty  hadn't  come 
down  to  breakfast  that  day,  and  Mr.  Moody  and 
Senator  Biggs  made  a  wager  in  the  Turkish  bath — 
according  to  Miss  Cobb — Mr.  Moody  betting  the 
wedding  wouldn't  come  off  at  all. 

"Of  course,"  Miss  Cobb  said,  wetting  her  finger 
and  trying  the  iron  to  see  if  it  was  hot,  "of  course, 
Minnie,  they're  not  married  yet,  and  if  Father  Jen- 
nings gets  ugly  and  makes  any  sort  of  scandal  it's 
all  off.  A  scandal  just  now  would  be  fatal.  These 
royalties  are  very  touchy  about  other  people's  repu- 
tations." 

Well,  I  heard  that  often  enough  in  the  next  few 
days. 


32  WHERE   THERE'S    A    WILL 

Mr.  Sam  hadn't  come  back  by  the  morning  of  the 
sixth  day,  but  he  wired  his  wife  the  day  before  that 
Mr.  Dick  was  on  the  way.  But  we  met  every  train 
with  a  sleigh,  and  he  didn't  come.  I  was  uneasy, 
knowing  Mr.  Dick,  and  Mrs.  Sam  was  worried,  too. 

By  that  time  everybody  was  waiting  and  watch- 
ing, and  on  the  early  train  on  the  sixth  day  came 
the  lawyer,  a  Mr.  Stitt.  Mr.  Thoburn  was  going 
around  with  a  sort  of  greasy  smile,  and  if  I  could 
have  poisoned  him  safely  I'd  have  done  it. 

It  had  been  snowing  hard  for  a  day  or  so,  and  at 
eleven  o'clock  that  day  I  saw  Miss  Cobb  and  Mrs. 
Biggs  coming  down  the  path  to  the  spring-house, 
Mrs.  Biggs  with  her  crocheting-bag  hanging  to  the 
handle  of  her  umbrella.  I  opened  the  door,  but  they 
wouldn't  come  in. 

"We  won't  track  up  your  clean  floor,  Minnie," 
Mrs.  Biggs  said — she  was  a  little  woman,  almost 
fifty,  who'd  gone  through  life  convinced  she'd  only 
lived  so  long  by  the  care  she  took  of  herself — "but 
I  thought  I'd  better  come  and  speak  to  you.  Please 
don't  irritate  Mr.  Biggs  to-day.  He's  been  reading 
that  article  of  Upton  Sinclair's  about  fasting,  and 
hasn't  had  a  bite  to  eat  since  noon  yesterday." 


AND    A   WAY  33 

I  noticed  then  that  she  looked  pale.  She  was  a 
nervous  creature,  although  she  could  drink  more 
spring  water  than  any  human  being  I  ever  saw,  ex- 
cept one  man,  and  he  was  a  German. 

Well,  I  promised  to  be  careful.  I've  seen  them 
fast  before,  and  when  a  fat  man  starts  to  live  on 
his  own  fat,  like  a  bear,  he  gets  about  the  same  dis- 
position. 

Mrs.  Biggs  started  back,  but  Miss  Cobb  waited  a 
moment  at  the  foot  of  the  steps. 

"Mr.  Van  Alstyne  is  back,"  she  said,  "but  he 
came  alone." 

"Alone!"  I  repeated,  staring  at  her  in  a  sort  of 
daze. 

"Alone,"  she  said  solemnly,  "and  I  heard  him 
ask  for  Mr.  Carter.  It  seems  he  started  for  here 
yesterday." 

But  I'd  had  time  to  get  myself  in  hand,  and  if  I 
had  a  chill  up  my  spine  she  never  knew  it.  As  she 
started  after  Mrs.  Biggs  I  saw  Mr.  Sam  hurrying 
down  the  path  toward  the  spring-house,  and  I  knew 
my  joint  hadn't  throbbed  for  nothing. 

Mr.  Sam  came  in  and  slammed  the  door  behind 
him. 


34  WHERE   THERE'S    A   WILL 

"What's  this  about  Mr.  Dick  not  being  here?"  he 
shouted. 

"Well,  he  isn't.  That's  all  there  is  to  it,  Mr.  Van 
Alstyne,"  I  said  calmly.  I  am  always  calm  when 
other  people  get  excited.  For  that  re?,son  some  peo- 
ple think  my  red  hair  is  a  false  alarm,  but  they  soon 
find  out. 

"But  he  must  be  here,"  said  Mr.  Van  Alstyne.  "I 
put  him  on  the  train  myself  yesterday,  and  waited 
until  it  started  to  be  sure  he  was  off." 

"The  only  way  to  get  Mr.  Richard  anywhere  you 
want  him  to  go,"  I  said  dryly,  "is  to  have  him  nailed 
in  a  crate  and  labeled." 

"Damned  young  scamp!"  said  Mr.  Van  Alstyne, 
although  I  have  a  sign  in  the  spring-house,  "Pro- 
fanity not  allowed." 

"Exactly  what  was  he  doing  when  you  last  laid 
eyes  on  him?"  I  asked. 

"He  was  on  the  train — " 

"Was  he  alone?" 

"Yes." 

"Sitting?" 

"No,  standing.     What  the  deuce,  Minnie — " 

"Waving  out  the  window  to  you?" 


AND    A   WAY  35 

"Of  course  not!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Van  Alstyne 
testily.  "He  was  raising  the  window  for  a  girl  in 
the  next  seat" 

"Precisely!"  I  said.  "Would  you  know  the  girl 
well  enough  to  trace  her?" 

"That's  ridiculous,  you  know,"  he  said  trying  to 
be  polite.  "Out  of  a  thousand  and  one  things  that 
may  have  detained  him — " 

"Only  one  thing  ever  detains  Mr.  Dick,  and  that 
always  detains  him,"  I  said  solemnly.  "That's  a 
girl.  You're  a  newcomer  in  the  family,  Mr.  Van 
Alstyne ;  you  don't  remember  the  time  he  went  down 
here  to  the  station  to  see  his  Aunt  Agnes  off  to  the 
city,  and  we  found  him  three  weeks  later  in  Okla- 
homa trying  to  marry  a  widow  with  five  children." 

Mr.  Van  Alstyne  dropped  into  a  chair,  and 
through  force  of  habit  I  gave  him  a  glass  of  spring 
water. 

"This  was  a  pretty  girl,  too,"  he  said  dismally. 

I  sat  down  on  the  other  side  of  the  fireplace,  and 
it  seemed  to  me  that  father's  crayon  enlargement 
over  the  mantel  shook  its  head  at  me. 

After  a  minute  Mr.  Van  Alstyne  drank  the  water 
and  got  up. 


36          WHERE   THERE'S   A   WILL 

"I'll  have  to  tell  my  wife,"  he  said.  "Who's  run- 
ning the  place,  anyhow  ?  You  ?" 

"Not — exactly,"  I  explained,  "but,  of  course, 
when  anything  comes  up  they  consult  me.  The 
housekeeper  is  a  fool,  and  now  that  the  house  doc- 
tor's gone — " 

"Gone!    Who's  looking  after  the  patients?" 

"Well,  most  of  them  have  been  here  before,"  I 
explained,  "and  I  know  their  treatment — the  kind 
of  baths  and  all  that." 

"Oh,  you  know  the  treatment!"  he  said,  eying 
me.  "And  why  did  the  house  doctor  go?" 

"He  ordered  Mr.  Moody  to  take  his  spring  water 
hot.  Mr.  Moody's  spring  water  has  been  ordered 
cold  for  eleven  years,  and  I  refused  to  change.  It 
was  between  the  doctor  and  me,  Mr.  Van  Alstyne." 

"Oh,  of  course,"  he  said,  "if  it  was  a  matter  of 
principle —  He  stopped,  and  then  something 
seemed  to  strike  him.  "I  say,"  he  said ;  "about  the 
doctor — that's  all  right,  you  know;  lots  of  doctors 
and  all  that.  But  for  heaven's  sake,  Minnie,  don't 
discharge  the  cook." 

Now  that  was  queer,  for  it  had  been  running  in 
my  head  all  morning  that  in  the  slack  season  it 


AND   A   WAY  37 

would  be  cheaper  to  get  a  good  woman  instead  of 
the  chef  and  let  Tillie,  the  diet  cook,  make  the 
pastry. 

Mr.  Sam  picked  up  his  hat  and  looked  at  his 
watch. 

"Eleven  thirty,"  he  said,  "and  no  sign  of  that 
puppy  yet.  I  guess  it's  up  to  the  police." 

"If  there  was  only  something  to  do,"  I  said,  with 
a  lump  in  my  throat,  "but  to  have  to  sit  and  do 
nothing  while  the  old  place  dies,  it's — it's  awful, 
Mr.  Van  Alstyne." 

"We're  not  dead  yet,"  he  replied  from  the  door, 
"and  maybe  we'll  need  you  before  the  day's  over. 
If  anybody  can  sail  the  old  bark  to  shore,  you  can 
do  it,  Minnie.  You've  been  steering  it  for  years. 
The  old  doctor  was  no  navigator,  and  you  and  I 
know  it." 

It  was  blowing  a  blizzard  by  that  time,  and  Miss 
Patty  was  the  only  one  who  came  out  to  the  spring- 
house  until  after  three  o'clock.  She  shook  the  snow 
off  her  furs  and  stood  by  the  fire,  looking  at  me  and 
not  saying  anything  for  fully  a  minute. 

"Well,"  she  said  finally,  "aren't  you  ashamed  of 
yourself?" 


38  WHERE   THERE'S   A   WILL 

"Why?"  I  asked,  and  swallowed  hard. 

"To  be  in  all  this  trouble  and  not  let  me  know. 
I've  just  this  minute  heard  about  it.  Can't  we  get 
the  police  ?" 

"Mr.  Van  Alstyne  is  trying,"  I  said,  "but  I  don't 
hope  much.  Like  as  not  Mr.  Dick  will  turn  up  to- 
morrow and  say  his  calendar  was  a  day  slow." 

I  gave  her  a  glass  of  water,  and  I  noticed  when 
she  took  it  how  pale  she  was.  But  she  held  it  up 
and  smiled  over  it  at  me. 

"Here's  to  everything  turning  out  better  than  we 
expect !"  she  said,  and  made  a  face  as  she  drank  the 
water.  I  thought  that  she  was  thinking  of  her  own 
troubles  as  well  as  mine,  for  she  put  down  the  glass 
and  stood  looking  at  her  engagement  ring,  a  square 
red  ruby  in  an  old-fashioned  setting.  It  was  a  very 
large  ruby,  but  I've  seen  showier  rings. 

"There  isn't  anything  wrong,  Miss  Patty,  is 
there?"  I  asked,  and  she  dropped  her  hand  and 
looked  at  me. 

"Oh,  no,"  she  said.  "That  is,  nothing  much, 
Minnie.  Father  is — I  think  he's  rather  ridiculous 
about  some  things,  but  I  dare  say  he'll  come  around. 
I  don't  mind  his  fussing  with  me,  but — if  it  should 


AND   A   WAY  39 

get  in  the  papers,  Minnie !  A  breath  of  unpleasant 
notoriety  now  would  be  fatal !" 

"I  don't  see  why,"  I  said  sharply.  "The  royal 
families  of  Europe  have  a  good  bit  of  unpleasant 
notoriety  themselves  occasionally.  I  should  think 
they'd  fall  over  themselves  to  get  some  good  red 
American  blood.  Blue  blood's  bad  blood;  you  can 
ask  any  doctor." 

But  she  only  smiled. 

"You're  like  father,  Minnie,"  she  said.  "You'll 
never  understand." 

"I'm  not  sure  I  want  to,"  I  snapped,  and  fell  to 
polishing  glasses. 

The  storm  stopped  a  little  at  three  and  most  of  the 
guests  waded  down  through  the  snow  for  bridge 
and  spring  water.  By  that  time  the  afternoon  train 
was  in,  and  no  Mr.  Dick.  Mr.  Sam  was  keeping  the 
lawyer,  Mr.  Stitt,  in  the  billiard  room,  and  by  four 
o'clock  they'd  had  everything  that  was  in  the  bar  and 
were  inventing  new  combinations  of  their  own.  And 
Mrs.  Sam  had  gone  to  bed  with  a  nervous  headache. 

Senator  Biggs  brought  the  mail  down  to  the 
spring-house  at  four,  but  there  was  nothing  for  me 
except  a  note  from  Mr.  Sam,  rather  shaky,  which 


40  WHERE   THERE'S   A   WILL 

said  he'd  no  word  yet  and  that  Mr.  Stitt  had  mixed 
all  the  cordials  in  the  bar  in  a  beer  glass  and  had 
had  to  go  to  bed. 

At  half  past  four  Mr.  Thoburn  came  out  for  a 
minute.  He  said  there  was  only  one  other  train 
from  town  that  night  and  the  chances  were  it  would 
be  snowed  up  at  the  junction. 

"Better  get  on  the  band  wagon  before  the  parade's 
gone  past,"  he  said  in  an  undertone.  But  I  went 
into  my  pantry  and  shut  the  door  with  a  slam,  and 
when  I  came  out  he  was  gone. 

I  nearly  went  crazy  that  afternoon.  I  put  salt  'in 
Miss  Cobb's  glass  when  she  always  drank  the  water 
plain.  Once  I  put  the  broom  in  the  fire  and  started  to 
sweep  the  porch  with  a  fire  log.  Luckily  they  were 
busy  with  their  letters  and  it  went  unnoticed,  the 
smell  of  burning  straw  not  rising,  so  to  speak,  above 
the  sulphur  in  the  spring. 

Senator  Biggs  went  from  one  table  to  another 
telling  how  well  he  felt  since  he  stopped  eating,  and 
trying  to  coax  the  other  men  to  starve  with  him. 

It's  funny  how  a  man  with  a  theory  about  his 
stomach  isn't  happy  until  he  has  made  some  other 
fellow  swallow  it. 


AND    A    WAY  41 

"Well,"  he  said,  standing  in  front  of  the  fire  with 
a  glass  of  water  in  his  hand,  "it's  worth  while  to 
feel  like  this.  My  head's  as  clear  as  a  bell.  I  don't 
care  to  eat;  I  don't  want  to  eat.  The  'fast'  is  the 
solution." 

"Two  stages  to  that  solution,  Senator,"  said  the 
bishop;  "first,  resolution;  last,  dissolution." 

Then  they  all  began  at  once.  If  you  have  ever 
heard  twenty  people  airing  their  theories  on  diet  you 
know  all  about  it.  One  shouts  for  Horace  Fletcher, 
and  another  one  swears  by  the  scraped-beef  treat- 
ment, and  somebody  else  never  touches  a  thing  but 
raw  eggs  and  milk,  and  pretty  soon  there  is  a  riot  of 
calories  and  carbohydrates.  It  always  ends  the  same 
way:  the  man  with  the  loudest  voice  wins,  and  the. 
defeated  ones  limp  over  to  the  spring  and  tell  their 
theories  to  me.  They  know  I'm  being  paid  to  listen. 

On  this  particular  afternoon  the  bishop  stopped 
the  riot  by  rising  and  holding  up  his  hand.  "Ladies 
and  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "let  us  not  be  rancorous. 
If  each  of  us  has  a  theory,  and  that  theory  works 
out  to  his  satisfaction,  then — why  are  we  all  here?" 

"Merely  to  tell  one  another  the  good  news!"  Mr. 
Jennings  said  sourly  from  his  corner. 


42  WHERE   THERE'S   A   WILL 

Honest,  it  was  funny.  If  some  folks  were 
healthy  they'd  be  lonesome. 

But  when  things  had  got  quiet — except  Mr. 
Moody  dropping  nickels  into  the  slot-machine — I 
happened  to  look  over  at  Miss  Patty,  and  I  saw 
there  was  something  wrong.  She  had  a  letter  open 
in  her  lap — not  one  of  the  blue  ones  with  the  black 
and  gold  seal  that  every  one  in  the  house  knew>came 
from  the  prince — but  a  white  one,  and  she  was  star- 
ing at  it  as  if  she'd  seen  a  ghost. 


CHAPTER   V 

WANTED AN    OWNER 

I  HAVE  never  reproached  Miss  Patty,  but  if  she 
had  only  given  me  the  letter  to  read  or  had  told 
me  the  whole  truth  instead  of  a  part  of  it,  I  would 
have  understood,  and  things  would  all  have  been 
different.  It  is  all  very  well  for  her  to  say  that  I 
looked  worried  enough  already,  and  that  anyhow  it 
was  a  family  affair.  /  should  have  been  told. 

All  she  did  was  to  come  up  to  me  as  I  stood  in 
the  spring,  with  her  face  perfectly  white,  and  ask 
me  if  my  Dicky  Carter  was  the  Richard  Carter  who 
stayed  at  the  Grosvenor  in  town. 

"He  doesn't  stay  anywhere,"  I  said,  with  my  feet 
getting  cold,  "but  that's  where  he  has  apartments. 
What  has  he  been  doing  now  ?" 

"You're  expecting  him  on  the  evening  train, 
aren't  you  ?"  she  asked.  "Don't  stare  like  that :  my 
father's  watching." 

43 


44  WHERE   THERE'S   A   WILL 

"He  ought  to  be  on  the  evening  train,"  I  said.  I 
wasn't  going  to  say  I  expected  him.  I  didn't. 

"Listen,  Minnie,"  she  said,  "you'll  have  to  send 
him  away  again  the  moment  he  comes.  He  must 
not  go  into  the  house." 

I  stood  looking  at  her,  with  my  mouth  open. 

"Not  go  into  the  house,"  I  repeated,  "with  every- 
body waiting  for  him  for  the  last  six  days,  and  Mr. 
Stitt  here  to  turn  things  over  to  him !" 

She  stood  tapping  her  foot,  with  her  pretty  brows 
knitted. 

"The  wretch !"  she  cried,  "the  hateful  creature — 
as  if  things  weren't  bad  enough!  I  suppose  he'll 
have  to  come,  Minnie,  but  I  must  see  him  before  he 
sees  any  one  else." 

Just  then  the  bishop  brought  his  glass  over  to  the 
spring. 

"Hot  this  time,  Minnie,"  he  said.  "Do  you 
know,  I'm  getting  the  mineral-water  habit,  Patty ! 
I'm  afraid  plain  water  will  have  no  attraction  for 
me  after  this." 

He  put  his  hand  over  hers  on  the  rail.  They  were 
old  friends,  the  bishop  and  the  Jenningses. 


WANTED— AN    OWNER  45 

"Well,  how  goes  it  to-day  with  the  father?"  he 
said  in  a  low  tone,  and  smiling. 

Miss  Patty  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "Worse,  if 
possible." 

"I  thought  so,"  he  said  cheerfully.  "If  state  of 
mind  is  any  criterion  I  should  think  he  has  had  a 
relapse.  A  little  salt,  Minnie."  Miss  Patty  stood 
watching  him  while  he  tasted  it. 

"Bishop,"  she  said  suddenly,  "will  you  do  some- 
thing for  me?" 

"I  always  have,  Patty."  He  was  very  fond  of 
Miss  Patty,  was  the  bishop. 

"Then — to-night,  not  later  than  eight  o'clock,  get 
father  to  play  cribbage,  will  you  ?  And  keep  him  in 
the  card-room  until  nine." 

"Another  escapade!"  he  said,  pretending  to  be 
very  serious.  "Patty,  Patty,  you'll  be  the  death  of 
me  yet.  Is  thy  servant  a  dog,  that  he  should  do 
this  thing?" 

"Certainly  not"  said  Miss  Patty.  "Just  a  dear, 
slightly  bald,  but  still  very  distinguished  slave !" 

The  bishop  picked  up  her  left  hand  and  looked  at 
the  ring  and  from  that  to  her  face. 


46  WHERE   THERE'S   A   WILL 

"There  will  be  plenty  of  slaves  to  kiss  this  little 
hand,  where  you  are  going,  my  child,"  he  said. 
"Sometimes  I  wish  that  some  nice  red-blooded  boy 
here  at  home — but  I  dare  say  it  will  turn  out  sur- 
prisingly well  as  it  is." 

"Bishop,  Bishop!"  Mrs.  Moody  called.  "How 
naughty  of  you,  and  with  your  bridge  hand  waiting 
to  be  held!" 

He  carried  his  glass  back  to  the  table,  stopping 
for  a  moment  beside  Mr.  Jennings. 

"If  Patty  becomes  any  more  beautiful,"  he  said, 
"I  shall  be  in  favor  of  having  her  wear  a  mask. 
How  are  we  young  men  to  protect  ourselves?" 

"Pretty  is  as  pretty  does!"  declared  Mr.  Jennings 
from  behind  his  newspaper,  and  Miss  Patty  went 
out  with  her  chin  up. 

Well,  I  knew  Mr.  Dick  had  been  up  to  some  mis- 
chief ;  I  had  suspected  it  all  along.  But  Miss  Patty 
went  to  bed,  and  old  Mrs.  Hutchins,  who's  a  sort  of 
lady's-maid-companion  of  hers,  said  she  mustn't  be 
disturbed.  I  was  pretty  nearly  sick  myself.  And 
when  Mr.  Sam  came  out  at  five  o'clock  and  said  he'd 
been  in  the  long-distance  telephone  booth  for  an 
hour  and  had  called  everybody  who  had  ever  known 


WANTED— AN    OWNER  47 

Mr.  Dick,  and  that  he  had  dropped  right  off  the 
earth,  I  just  about  gave  up.  He  had  got  some  de- 
tectives, he  said,  and  there  was  some  sort  of  a  story 
about  his  having  kept  right  on  the  train  to  Salem, 
Ohio,  but  if  he  had  they'd  lost  the  trail  there,  and 
anyhow,  with  the  railroad  service  tied  up  by  the 
storm  there  wasn't  much  chance  of  his  getting  to 
Finleyville  in  time. 

Luckily  Mr.  Stitt  was  in  bed  with  a  mustard  leaf 
over  his  stomach  and  ice  on  his  head,  and  didn't 
know  whether  it  was  night  or  morning.  But  Tho- 
burn  was  going  around  with  a  watch  in  his  hand, 
and  Mr.  Sam  was  for  killing  him  and  burying  the 
body  in  the  snow. 

At  half  past  five  I  just  about  gave  up.  I  was  sit- 
ting in  front  of  the  fire  wondering  why  I'd  taken 
influenza  the  spring  before  from  getting  my  feet 
wet  in  a  shower,  when  I  had  been  standing  in  a 
mineral  spring  for  so  many  years  that  it's  a  wonder 
I'm  not  web-footed.  It  was  when  I  had  influenza 
that  the  old  doctor  made  the  will,  you  remember. 
Maybe  I  was  crying,  I  don't  recall. 

It  was  dark  outside,  and  nothing  inside  but  fire- 
light. Suddenly  I  seemed  to  feel  somebody  look- 


48  WHERE   THERE'S    A   WILL 

ing  at  the  back  of  my  neck  and  I  turned  around. 
There  was  a  man  standing  outside  one  of  the  win- 
dows, staring  in. 

My  first  thought,  of  course,  was  that  it  was  Mr. 
Dick,  but  just  as  the  face  vanished  I  saw  that  it 
wasn't.  It  was  older  by  three  or  four  years  than 
Mr.  Dick's  and  a  bit  fuller. 

I'm  not  nervous.  I've  had  to  hold  my  own  against 
chronic  grouches  too  long  to  have  nerves,  so  I  went 
to  the  door  and  looked  out.  The  man  came  around 
the  corner  just  then  and  I  could  see  him  plainly  in 
the  firelight.  He  was  covered  with  snow,  and  he 
wore  a  sweater  and  no  overcoat,  but  he  looked  like 
a  gentleman. 

"I  beg  your  pardon  for  spying,"  he  said,  "but  the 
fire  looked  so  snug!  I've  been  trying  to  get  to  the 
hotel  over  there,  but  in  the  dark  I've  lost  the  path." 

"That's  not  a  hotel,"  I  snapped,  for  that  touched 
me  on  the  raw.  "That's  Hope  Springs  Sanatorium, 
and  this  is  one  of  the  Springs." 

"Oh,  Hope  Springs,  internal  instead  of  eternal!" 
he  said.  "That's  awfully  bad,  isn't  it?  To  tell  you 
the  truth,  I  think  I'd  better  come  in  and  get  some; 
I'm  short  on  hope  just  now." 


WANTED— AN   OWNER  49 

I  thought  that  was  likely  enough,  for  although  his 
voice  was  cheerful  and  his  eyes  smiled,  there  was  a 
drawn  look  around  his  mouth,  and  he  hadn't  shaved 
that  day.  I  wish  I  had  had  as  much  experience  in 
learning  what's  right  with  folks  as  I  have  had  in 
learning  what's  wrong  with  them. 

"You'd  better  come  in  and  get  warm,  anyhow,"  I 
told  him,  "only  don't  spring  any  more  gags.  I've 
been  'Hebe'  for  fourteen  years  and  I've  served  all 
the  fancy  drinks  you  can  name  over  the  brass  rail- 
ing of  that  spring.  Nowadays,  when  a  fellow  gets 
smart  and  asks  for  a  Mamie  Taylor,  I  charge  him  a 
Mamie  Taylor  price." 

He  shut  the  door  behind  him  and  came  over  to 
the  fire. 

"I'm  pretty  well  frozen,"  he  said.  "Don't  be  as- 
tonished if  I  melt  before  your  eyes;  I've  been  walk- 
ing for  hours." 

Now  that  I  had  a  better  chance  to  see  him  I'd 
sized  up  that  drawn  look  around  his  mouth. 

"Missed  your  luncheon,  I  suppose,"  I  said,  pok- 
ing the  fire  log.  He  grinned  rather  sheepishly. 

"Well,  I  haven't  had  any,  and  I've  certainly  missed 
it,"  he  said.  "Fasting's  healthy,  you  know." 


50  WHERE   THERE'S   A   WILL 

I  thought  of  Senator  Biggs,  who  carried  enough 
fat  to  nourish  him  for  months,  and  then  I  looked 
at  my  visitor,  who  hadn't  an  ounce  of  extra  flesh 
on  him. 

"Nothing's  healthy  that  isn't  natural,"  I  declared. 
"If  you'd  care  for  a  dish  of  buttered  and  salted 
pop-corn,  there's  some  on  the  mantel.  It's  pretty 
salty;  the  idea  is  to  make  folks  thirsty  so  they'll 
enjoy  the  mineral  water." 

"Think  of  raising  a  real  thirst  only  to  drown  it 
with  spring  water!"  he  said.  But  he  got  the  pop- 
corn and  he  ate  it  all.  If  he  hadn't  had  any  lunch- 
eon he  hadn't  had  much  breakfast.  The  queer  part 
was — he  was  a  gentleman ;  his  clothes  were  the  right 
sort,  but  he  had  on  patent  leather  shoes  in  all  that 
snow  and  an  automobile  cap. 

I  put  away  the  glasses  while  he  ate.  Pretty  soon 
he  looked  up  and  the  drawn  lines  were  gone.  He 
wasn't  like  Mr.  Dick,  but  he  was  the  same  type,  only 
taller  and  heavier  built. 

"And  so  it  isn't  a  hotel,"  he  remarked.  "Well, 
I'm  sorry.  The  caravansary  in  the  village  is  not  to 
my  liking,  and  I  had  thought  of  engaging  a  suite 
up  here.  My  secretary  usually  attends  to  these 


•  — . 

To  the  best  woman  I  have  met  in  many  days. 


WANTED— AN   OWNER  51 

things,  but — don't  take  away  all  the  glasses,  Heb — I 
beg  your  pardon — but  the  thirst  is  coming." 

He  filled  the  glass  himself  and  then  he  came  up 
and  stood  in  front  of  me,  with  the  glass  held  up  in 
the  air. 

"To  the  best  woman  I  have  met  in  many  days," 
he  said,  not  mocking  but  serious.  "I  was  about  to 
lie  down  and  let  the  little  birds  cover  me  with 
leaves."  Then  he  glanced  at  the  empty  dish  and 
smiled.  "To  buttered  pop-corn!  Long  may  it 
wave!"  he  said,  and  emptied  the  glass. 

Well,  I  found  a  couple  of  apples  in  my  pantry 
and  brought  them  out,  and  after  he  ate  them  he 
told  me  what  had  happened  to  him.  He  had  been 
a  little  of  everything  since  he  left  college — he  was 
about  twenty-five — had  crossed  the  Atlantic  in  a 
catboat  and  gone  with  somebody  or  other  into  some 
part  of  Africa — they  got  lost  and  had  to  eat  each 
other  or  lizards,  or  something  like  that — and  then 
he  went  to  the  Philippines,  and  got  stuck  there  and 
had  to  sell  books  to  get  home.  He  had  a  little  money, 
"enough  for  a  grub-stake,"  he  said,  and  all  his  folks 
were  dead.  Then  a  college  friend  of  his  wrote  a 
rural  play  called  Sweet  Peas —  "Great  title,  don't 


52  WHERE   THERE'S    A   WILL 

you  think  ?"  he  asked — and  he  put  up  all  the  money. 
It  would  have  been  a  hit,  he  said,  but  the  kid  in  the 
play — the  one  that  unites  its  parents  in  the  last  act 
just  before  he  dies  of  tuberculosis — the  kid  took  the 
mumps  and  looked  as  if,  instead  of  fading  away,  he 
was  going  to  blow  up.  Everybody  was  so  afraid  of 
him  that  they  let  him  die  alone  for  three  nights  in 
the  middle  of  the  stage.  Then  the  leading  woman 
took  the  mumps,  and  the  sheriff  took  everything  else. 

"You  city  folks  seem  to  know  so  much,"  I  said, 
"and  yet  you  bring  a  country  play  to  the  country! 
Why  don't  you  bring  out  a  play  with  women  in  low- 
necked  gowns,  and  champagne  suppers,  and  a  scan- 
dal or  two  ?  They  packed  Pike's  Opera-House  three 
years  ago  with  a  play  called  Why  Women  Sin."' 

Well,  of  course,  the  thing  failed,  and  he  lost  every 
dollar  he'd  put  into  it,  which  was  all  he  had,  includ- 
ing what  he  had  in  his  pockets. 

"They  seized  my  trunks,"  he  explained,  "and  I 
sold  my  fur-lined  overcoat  for  eight  dollars,  which 
took  one  of  the  girls  back  home.  It's  hard  for  the 
women.  A  fellow  can  always  get  some  sort  of  a 
job — I  was  coming  up  here  to  see  if  they  needed  an 
extra  clerk  or  a  waiter,  or  chauffeur,  or  anything 


WANTED— AN    OWNER  53 

that  meant  a  roof  and  something  to  eat — but  I  sup- 
pose they  don't  need  a  jack-of -all-trades." 

"No,"  I  answered,  "but  I'll  tell  you  what  I  think 
they're  going  to  need.    And  that's  an  owner!" 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE    CONSPIRACY 

I'M  not  making  any  excuses.  I  did  it  for  the  best. 
In  any  sort  of  crisis  there  are  always  folks  who 
stand  around  and  wring  their  hands  and  say, "What 
shall  we  do?"  And  then  if  it's  a  fire  and  somebody 
has  had  enough  sense  to  send  for  the  engines,  they 
say :  "Just  look  at  what  the  water  did !"  Although 
as  far  as  I  can  see  I'm  the  only  one  that  suffered 
any  damage. 

If  Mr.  Thoburn  had  not  been  there,  sitting  by  to 
see  the  old  sanatorium  die  so  it  could  sprout  wings 
and  fly  as  a  summer  hotel,  I'd  never  have  thought 
of  it.  But  I  was  in  despair. 

I  got  up  and  opened  the  door,  but  the  snow  came 
in  in  a  cloud,  and  the  path  was  half  a  foot  deep 
again.  It  shows  on  what  little  threads  big  things 
hang,  for  when  I  saw  the  storm  I  gave  up  the  idea 

54 


THE   CONSPIRACY  55 

of  bringing  Mr.  Sam  down  to  see  the  young  man, 
and  the  breath  of  fresh  air  in  my  face  brought  me  to 
my  senses. 

But  the  angel  of  providence  appeared  in  the  shape 
of  Mike,  the  bath  man,  coming  down  through  the 
snow  in  a  tearing  rage.  The  instant  I  saw  Mike 
I  knew  it  was  settled. 

"Am  I  or  am  I  not  to  give  Mr.  Moody  a  needle 
shower?"  he  shouted,  almost  beside  himself.  And 
I  saw  he  had  his  overcoat  over  his  bath  costume, 
which  is  a  Turkish  towel. 

"A  needle  shower  followed  by  a  salt  rub,"  said  I. 
"He's  been  having  them  for  eleven  years.  What's 
the  matter?" 

"That  fool  of  a  young  doctor,"  shouted  Mike,  "he 
told  him  before  he  left  that  if  he'd  been  taking  them 
for  eleven  years  and  wasn't  any  better  it  was  time 
to  stop.  Ain't  business  bad  enough — only  four 
people  in  the  house  takin'  baths  regular — without  his 
buttin'  in!" 

"Where's  Mr.  Moody?" 

"In  the  bath.     I've  locked  up  his  clothes." 

"You  give  him  a  needle  shower  and  a  salt  rub," 
I  ordered,  "and  if  he  makes  a  fuss  just  send  for  me. 


56  WHERE   THERE'S   A   WILL 

And,  Mike,"  I  said,  as  he  started  out,  "ask  Mr.  Van. 
Alstyne  to  come  out  here  immediately." 

That's  the  way  it  was  all  the  time.  Everybody 
brought  their  troubles  to  me,  and  I  guess  I  thought 
I  was  a  little  tin  god  on  wheels  and  the  place  couldn't 
get  along  without  me.  But  it  did ;  it  does.  We  all 
think  we'll  leave  a  big  hole  behind  us  when  we  go, 
but  it's  just  like  taking  your  thumb  out  of  a  bowl 
of  soup.  There  isn't  even  a  dent. 

Mr.  Van  Alstyne  came  out  on  the  run,  and  when 
he  saw  Mr.  Pierce  by  the  fire — that  was  his  name, 
Alan  Pierce — he  stopped  and  stared.  Then  he  said : 

"You  infernal  young  scamp !"  And  with  that  Mr. 
Pierce  jumped  up,  surprised  and  pretty  mad,  and 
Mr.  Van  Alstyne  saw  his  mistake. 

"I'm  sure  I  beg  your  pardon !"  he  said.  "The  fact 
is,  I  was  expecting  somebody  else,  and  in  the  fire- 
light-" 

"You  surprised  me,  that's  all,"  said  Mr.  Pierce. 
"Under  the  circumstances,  I'm  glad  I'm  not  the 
other  chap." 

"You  may  be,"  assured  Mr.  Sam  grimly.  "You're 
not  unlike  him,  by  the  way.  A  little  taller  and 
heavier,  but — " 


THE    CONSPIRACY  57 

Now  it's  all  very  well  for  Mr.  Sam  to  say  I  origi- 
nated the  idea  and  all  that,  but  as  truly  as  I  am  writ- 
ing this,  as  I  watched  his  face  I  saw  the  same 
thought  come  into  it.  He  looked  Mr.  Pierce  up  and 
down,  and  then  he  stared  into  the  fire  and  puckered 
his  mouth  to  whistle,  but  he  didn't.  And  finally  he 
glanced  at  me,  but  I  was  looking  into  the  fire,  too. 

"Just  come,  haven't  you?"  he  asked.  "How  did 
you  get  up  the  hill  ?" 

"Walked,"  said  Mr.  Pierce,  smiling.  "It  took 
some  digging,  too.  But  I  didn't  come  for  my  health, 
unless  you  think  three  meals  a  day  are  necessary  for 
health." 

Mr.  Sam  turned  and  stared  at  him.  "By  Jove! 
you  don't  mean  it!" 

"I  wish  I  didn't,"  Mr.  Pierce  replied.  "One  of 
the  hardest  things  I've  had  to  remember  for  the 
last  ten  hours  was  that  for  two  years  I  voluntarily 
ate  only  two  meals  a  day.  A  man's  a  fool  to  do  a 
thing  like  that!  It's  reckless." 

Mr.  Sam  got  up  and  began  to  walk  the  floor,  his 
hands  in  his  pockets.  He  tried  to  get  my  eye,  but 
still  I  looked  in  the  fire. 

"All  traffic's  held  up,  Minnie,"  he  said.     "The 


58  WHERE   THERE'S   A   WILL 

eight  o'clock  train  is  stalled  beyond  the  junction,  in 
a  drift.  I've  wired  the  conductor,  and  Carter  isn't 
on  it." 

"Well?"  said  I. 

"If  we  could  only  get  past  to-day,"  Mr.  Sam  went 
on;  "if  Thoburn  would  only  choke  to  death,  or — 
if  there  was  somebody  around  who  looked  like  Dick. 
I  dare  say,  by  to-morrow — "  He  looked  at  Mr. 
Pierce,  who  smiled  and  looked  at  him. 

"And  I  resemble  Dick!"  said  Mr.  Pierce.  "Well, 
if  he's  a  moral  and  upright  young  man — " 

"He  isn't!"  Mr.  Sam  broke  in  savagely.  And 
then  and  there  he  sat  down  and  told  Mr.  Pierce  the 
trouble  we  were  in,  and  what  sort  of  cheerful  idiot 
Dicky  Carter  was,  and  how  everybody  liked  him, 
but  wished  he  would  grow  up  before  the  family 
good  name  was  gone,  and  that  now  he  had  a  chance 
to  make  good  and  be  self-supporting,  and  he  wasn't 
around,  and  if  Mr.  Sam  ever  got  his  hands  on  him 
he'd  choke  a  little  sense  down  his  throat. 

And  then  Mr.  Pierce  told  about  the  play  and  the 
mumps,  and  how  he  was  stranded.  When  Mr.  Sam 
asked  him  outright  if  he'd  take  Mr.  Dick's  place 
overnight  he  agreed  at  once. 


THE    CONSPIRACY  59 

"I  haven't  anything  to  lose,"  he  said,  "and  any- 
how I've  been  on  a  diet  of  Sweet  Peas  so  long  that 
a  sanatorium  is  about  what  I  need." 

"It's  like  this,"  explained  Mr.  Sam,  "Old  Stitt 
is  pretty  thoroughly  jingled — excuse  me,  Minnie, 
but  it's  the  fact.  I'll  take  you  to  his  room,  with 
the  lights  low,  and  all  you'll  need  to  do  is  to  shake 
hands  with  him.  He's  going  on  the  early  train  to- 
morrow. Then  you  needn't  mix  around  much  with 
the  guests  until  to-morrow,  and  by  that  time  I  hope 
to  have  Dick  within  thrashing  distance." 

Just  as  they'd  got  it  arranged  that  Mr.  Pierce 
was  to  put  on  Mr.  Sam's  overcoat  and  walk  down 
to  the  village  so  that  he  could  come  up  in  a  sleigh, 
as  if  he  had  driven  over  from  Yorkton — he  was 
only  to  walk  across  the  hall  in  front  of  the  office, 
with  his  collar  up,  just  enough  to  show  himself  and 
then  go  to  his  room  with  a  chill — just  as  it  was  all 
arranged,  Mr.  Sam  thought  of  something. 

"The  house  people  are  waiting  for  Dick,"  he  said 
to  me,  "and  about  forty  women  are  crocheting  in 
the  lobby,  so  they'll  be  sure  to  see  him.  Won't 
some  of  them  know  it  isn't  Dick?" 

I  thought  pretty  fast. 


60  WHERE   THERE'S    A    WILL 

"He  hasn't  been  around  much  lately,"  I  said. 
"Nobody  would  know  except  Mrs.  Wiggins.  She'll 
never  forget  him;  the  last  time  he  was  here  he  put 
on  her  false  front  like  a  beard  and  wore  it  down 
to  dinner." 

"Then  it's  all  off,"  he  groaned.  "She's  got  as 
many  eyes  as  a  potato." 

"And  about  as  much  sense,"  said  I.  "Fiddle- 
sticks! She's  not  so  good  we  can't  replace  her,  and 
what's  the  use  of  swallowing  a  camel  and  then  stick- 
ing at  a  housekeeper?" 

"You  can't  get  her  out  of  the  house  in  an  hour," 
he  objected,  but  in  a  weak  voice. 

"I  can!"  I  said  firmly. 

(I  did.  Inside  of  an  hour  she  went  to  the  clerk, 
Mr.  Slocum,  and  handed  in  her  resignation.  She 
was  a  touchy  person,  but  I  did  not  say  all  that  was 
quoted.  I  did  not  say  the  kitchen  was  filthy ;  I  only 
said  it  took  away  my  appetite  to  look  in  at  the 
door.  But  she  left,  which  is  the  point. ) 

Well,  I  stood  in  the  doorway  and  watched  them 
disappear  in  the  darkness,  and  I  felt  better  than  I 
had  all  day.  It's  great  to  be  able  to  do  something, 
<even  if  that  something  is  wrong.  But  as  I  put  on 


THE   CONSPIRACY  $i 

my  shawl  and  turned  out  the  lights,  I  suddenly  re- 
membered. Miss  Patty  would  be  waiting  in  the  lobby 
for  Mr.  Dick,  and  she  would  not  be  crocheting! 


CHAPTER  VII. 

MR.   PIERCE  ACQUIRES  A  WIFE 

WHOEVER  has  charge  of  the  spring-house 
at  Hope  Springs  takes  the  news  stand  in 
the  evening.  That's  an  old  rule.  The  news  stand 
includes  tobacco  and  a  circulating  library,  and  is 
close  to  the  office,  and  if  I  missed  any  human  na- 
ture at  the  spring  I  got  it  there.  If  you  can't  tell 
all  about  a  man  by  the  way  he  asks  for  mineral 
water  and  drinks  it,  by  the  time  you've  supplied  his 
literature  and  his  tobacco  and  heard  him  grumbling 
over  his  bill  at  the  office,  you've  got  a  line  on  him 
and  a  hook  in  it. 

After  I  ate  my  supper  I  relieved  Amanda  King, 
who  runs  the  news  stand  in  the  daytime,  when  she 
isn't  laid  off  with  the  toothache.  Mr.  Sam  was 
right.  All  the  women  had  on  their  puffs,  and  they 
were  sitting  in  a  half-circle  on  each  side  of  the 

62 


MR.    PIERCE   ACQUIRES    A    WIFE      63 

door.  Mrs.  Sam  was  there,  looking  frightened  and 
anxious,  and  standing  near  the  card-room  door  was 
Miss  Patty.  She  was  all  in  white,  with  two  red 
spots  on  her  cheeks,  and  I  thought  if  her  prince 
could  have  seen  her  then  he  would  pretty  nearly 
have  eaten  her  up.  Mr.  Thoburn  was  there,  of 
course,  pretending  to  read  the  paper,  but  every  now 
and  then  he  looked  at  his  watch,  and  once  he  got 
up  and  paced  off  the  lobby,  putting  down  the  length 
in  his  note-book.  I  didn't  need  a  mind-reader  to 
tell  me  he  was  figuring  the  cost  of  a  new  hardwood 
floor  and  four  new  rugs. 

Mr.  Sam  came  to  the  news  stand,  and  he  was  so 
nervous  he  could  hardly  light  a  cigarette. 

"I've  had  a  message  from  one  of  the  detectives," 
he  said.  "They've  traced  him  to  Salem,  Ohio,  but 
they  lost  him  there.  If  we  can  only  hold  on  this 
evening — !  Look  at  that  first-night  audience!" 

"Mr.  Pierce  is  due  in  three  minutes,"  I  told  him. 
"I  hope  you  told  him  to  kiss  his  sister." 

"Nothing  of  the  sort,"  he  objected.  "Why  should 
he  kiss  her?  Mrs.  Van  Alstyne  is  afraid  of  the 
whole  thing:  she  won't  stand  for  that." 

"I  guess  she  could  endure  it,"  I  remarked  dryly. 


64          WHERE   THERE'S   A  WILL 

"It's  astonishing  how  much  of  that  sort  of  thing 
a  woman  can  bear." 

He  looked  at  me  and  grinned. 

"By  gad,"  he  said,  "I  wouldn't  be  as  sophisticated 
as  you  are  for  a  good  deal.  Isn't  that  the  sleigh?" 

Everybody  had  heard  it.  The  women  sat  up  and 
craned  forward  to  look  at  the  door :  Mrs.  Sam  was 
clutching  the  arms  of  her  chair.  She  was  in  white, 
having  laid  off  her  black  for  that  evening,  with 
a  red  rose  pinned  on  her  so  Mr.  Pierce  would  know 
her.  Miss  Patty  heard  the  sleigh-bells  also,  and 
she  turned  and  came  toward  the  door.  Her  mouth 
was  set  hard,  and  she  was  twisting  the  ruby  ring  as 
she  always  did  when  she  was  nervous.  And  at  the 
same  moment  Mr.  Sam  and  I  both  saw  it ;  she  was 
in  white,  too,  and  she  had  a  red  rose  tucked  in  her 
belt! 

Mr.  Sam  muttered  something  and  rushed  at  her, 
but  he  was  too  late.  Just  as  he  got  to  her  the  door 
opened  and  in  came  Mr.  Pierce,  with  Mr.  Sam's 
fur  coat  turned  up  around  his  ears  and  Mr.  Sam's 
fur  cap  drawn  well  down  on  his  head.  He  stood 
for  an  instant  blinking  in  the  light,  and  Mrs.  Van 
Alstyne  got  up  nervously.  He  never  even  saw  her. 


MR.    PIERCE   ACQUIRES   A   WIFE      65 

His  eyes  lighted  on  Miss  Patty's  face  and  stayed 
there.  Mr.  Sam  was  there,  but  what  could  he  do? 
Mr.  Pierce  walked  over  to  Miss  Patty,  took  her 
hand,  said,  "Hello  there!"  and  kissed  her.  It  was 
awful. 

Most  women  will  do  anything  to  save  a  scene, 
and  that  helped  us,  for  she  never  turned  a  hair. 
But  when  Mr.  Sam  got  him  by  the  arm  and  led 
him  toward  the  stairs,  she  turned  so  that  the  old 
cats  sitting  around  could  not  see  her  and  her  face 
was  scarlet.  She  went  over  to  the  wood  fire — our 
lobby  is  a  sort  of  big  room  with  chairs  and  tables 
and  palms,  and  an  open  fire  in  winter — and  sat 
down.  I  don't  think  she  knew  herself  whether  she 
was  most  astonished  or  angry. 

Mrs.  Biggs  gave  a  nasty  little  laugh. 

"Your  brother  didn't  see  you,"  she  said  to  Mrs. 
Van  Alstyne.  "I  dare  say  a  sister  doesn't  count 
much  when  a  future  princess  is  around !" 

Mrs.  Van  Alstyne  was  still  staring  up  the  stair- 
case, but  she  came  to  herself  at  that.  She  had  some 
grit  in  her,  if  she  did  look  like  a  French  doll. 

"My  brother  and  Miss  Jennings  are  very  old 
friends,"  she  remarked  quietly.  I  believe  that  was 


66          WHERE  THERE'S   A   WILL 

what  she  thought,  too.  I  don't  think  she  had  seen 
'the  other  red  rose,  and  what  was  she  to  think  but 
that  Mr.  Pierce  had  known  Miss  Jennings  some- 
where? She  was  dazed,  Mrs.  Sam  was.  But  she 
carried  off  the  situation  anyhow,  and  gave  us  time 
to  breathe.  We  needed  it. 

"If  I  were  his  highness,"  said  Miss  Cobb,  spread- 
ing the  Irish  lace  collar  she  was  making  over  her 
knee  and  squinting  at  it,  "I  should  wish  my  fiancee 
to  be  more — er — dignified.  Those  old  Austrian 
families  are  very  haughty.  They  would  not  under- 
stand our  American  habit  of  osculation." 

I  was  pretty  mad  at  that,  for  anybody  could  have 
seen  Miss  Patty  didn't  kiss  him. 

"If  by  osculation  you  mean  kissing,  Miss  Cobb," 
I  said,  going  over  to  her,  "I  guess  you  don't  re- 
member the  Austrian  count  who  was  a  head  waiter 
here.  If  there  was  anything  in  the  way  of  oscula- 
tion that  that  member  of  an  old  Austrian  family 
didn't  know,  I've  got  to  find  it  out.  He  could 
kiss  all  around  any  American  I  ever  saw!" 

I  went  back  to  my  news  stand.  I  was  shaking 
so  my  knees  would  hardly  hold  me.  All  I  could 
think  of  was  that  they  had  swallowed  Mr.  Pierce, 


MR.   PIERCE   ACQUIRES   A  WIFE      6? 

bait  and  hook,  and  that  for  a  time  we  were  saved, 
although  in  the  electric  light  Mr.  Pierce  was  a  good 
bit  less  like  Dicky  Carter  than  he  had  seemed  to  be 
in  the  spring-house  by  the  fire. 

Well,  "Sufficient  unto  the  day  is  the  evil  there- 
of." 

Everybody  went  to  bed  early.  Mr.  Thoburn 
came  over  and  bought  a  cigar  on  his  way  up-stairs, 
and  he  was  as  gloomy  as  he  had  been  cheerful  be- 
fore. 

"Well,"  I  said,  "I  guess  you  won't  put  a  danc- 
ing floor  in  the  dining-room  just  yet,  Mr.  Tho- 
burn." 

"I'm  not  in  a  hurry,"  he  snapped.  "It's  only 
January,  and  I  don't  want  the  place  until  May. 
I'll  get  it  when  I'm  ready  for  it.  I  had  a  good 
look  at  young  Carter,  and  he's  got  too  square  a 
jaw  to  run  a  successful  neurasthenics'  home." 

I  went  to  the  pantry  myself  at  ten  o'clock  and 
fixed  a  tray  of  supper  for  Mr.  Pierce.  He  would 
need  all  his  strength  the  next  day,  and  a  man  can't 
travel  far  on  buttered  pop-corn.  I  found  some 
chicken  and  got  a  bottle  of  the  old  doctor's  wine — « 
I  had  kept  the  key  of  his  wine-cellar  since  he  died 


68 

— and  carried  the  tray  up  to  Mr.  Pierce's  sitting- 
room.  He  had  the  old  doctor's  suite. 

The  door  was  open  an  inch  or  so,  and  as  I  was 
about  to  knock  I  heard  a  girl's  voice.  It  was  Miss 
Patty! 

"How  can  you  deny  it?"  she  was  saying  angrily. 
"I  dare  say  you  will  even  deny  that  you  ever  saw 
this  letter  before!" 

There  was  a  minute's  pause  while  I  suppose  he 
looked  at  the  letter. 

"I  never  did!"  he  said  solemnly. 

There  had  been  a  queer  sound  all  along,  but  now 
I  made  it  out.  Some  one  else  was  in  the  room, 
sniveling  and  crying. 

"My  poor  lamb!"  it  whimpered.  And  I  knew 
it  was  Mrs.  Hutchins,  Miss  Patty's  old  nurse. 

"Perhaps,"  said  Miss  Patty,  "you  also  deny  that 
you  were  in  Ohio  the  day  before  yesterday." 

"I  was  in  Ohio,  but  I  positively  assert— 

"I'll  send  for  the  police,  that's  what  I'll  do!" 
Mrs.  Hutchins  said,  with  a  burst  of  rage,  and  her 
chair  creaked.  "How  can  I  ever  tell  your  father?" 

"You'll  do  nothing  of  the  sort,"  said  Miss  Patty. 
"Do  you  want  the  whole  story  in  the  papers?  Isn't 


MR.   PIERCE  ACQUIRES   A  WIFE      69 

x 

it  awful  enough  as  it  is?  Mr.  Carter,  I  have  asked 
my  question  twice  now  and  I  am  waiting  for  an 
answer." 

"But  I  don't  know  the  answer!"  he  said  miser- 
ably. "I — I  assure  you,  I'm  absolutely  in  the  dark. 
I  don't  know  what's  in  the  letter.  I — I  haven't  al- 
ways done  what  I  should,  I  dare  say,  but  my  con- 
duct in  the  state  of  Ohio  during  the  last  few 
weeks  has  been  without  stain — unless  I've  forgot- 
ten— but  if  it  had  been  anything  very  heinous,  I'd 
remember,  don't  you  think?" 

Somebody  crossed  the  room,  and  a  paper  rustled. 

"Read  that!"  said  Miss  Patty's  voice.  And  then 
silence  for  a  minute. 

"Good  lord!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pierce. 

"Do  you  deny  that?" 

"Absolutely!"  he  said  firmly.  "I — I  have  never 
even  heard  of  the  Reverend  Dwight  Johnstone — " 

There  was  a  scream  from  Mrs.  Hutchins,  and  a 
creak  as  she  fell  into  her  chair  again. 

"Your  father!"  she  said,  over  and  over.  "What 
can  we  say  to  your  father?" 

"And  that  is  all  you  will  say?"  demanded  Miss 
Patty  scornfully.  "'You  don't  know;'  'there's  a 


70          -WHERE  THERE'S   A   WILL 

mistake;'  'you  never  saw  the  letter  before!'  Oh, 
if  I  were  only  a  man!" 

"I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do,"  Mr.  Pierce  said,  with 
something  like  hope  in  his  voice.  "We'll  send  for 
Mr.  Van  Alstyne!  That's  the  thing,  of  course. 
I'll  send  for — er — Jim." 

Mr.  Van  Alstyne's  name  is  Sam,  but  nobody 
noticed. 

"Mr.  Van  Alstyne!"  repeated  Miss  Patty  in  a 
dazed  way. 

I  guessed  it  was  about  time  to  make  a  diversion, 
so  I  knocked  and  walked  in  with  the  tray,  and  thev 
all  glared  at  me.  Mrs.  Hutchins  was  collapsed  in 
a  chair,  holding  a  wet  handkerchief  to  her  eyes- 
and  one  side  of  her  cap  was  loose  and  hanging 
down.  Miss  Patty  was  standing  by  a  table,  white 
and  angry,  and  Mr.  Pierce  was  about  a  yard  from 
her,  with  the  letter  in  his  hands.  But  he  was  look- 
ing at  her. 

"I've  brought  your  supper,  Mr.  Carter,"  I  be- 
gan. Then  I  stopped  and  stared  at  Miss  Patty  and 
Mrs.  Hutchins.  "Oh,"  I  said. 

"Thank  you,"  said  Mr.  Pierce,  very  uncomfort- 
able. "Just  put  it  down  anywhere." 


MR.    PIERCE   ACQUIRES   A  WIFE      ;r 

I  stalked  across  the  room  and  put  it  on  the  table. 
Then  I  turned  and  looked  at  Mrs.  Hutchins. 

"I'm  sorry,"  I  said,  "but  it's  one  of  the  rules  of 
this  house  that  guests  don't  come  to  these  room? 
They're  strictly  private.     It  isn't  my  rule,  ladies, 
but  if  you  will  step  down  to  the  parlor — ' 

Mrs.  Hutchins'  face  turned  purple.  She  got  up 
in  a  hurry. 

"I'm  here  with  Miss  Jennings  on  a  purely  per- 
sonal matter,"  she  said  furiously.  "How  dare  you 
turn  us  out?" 

"Nonsense,  Minnie!"  said  Miss  Patty.  "I'll  go 
when  I'm  ready." 

"Rule  of  the  house,"  I  remarked,  and  going  over 
to  the  door  I  stood  holding  it  open.  There  wasn't 
any  such  rule,  but  I  had  to  get  them  out;  they  had 
Mr.  Pierce  driven  into  a  corner  and  yelling  for 
help. 

"There  is  no  such  rule  and  you  know  it,  Minnie!" 
Miss  Patty  said  angrily.  "Come,  Nana!  We're  not 
learning  anything,  and  there's  nothing  to  be  done 
until  morning,  anyhow.  My  head's  whirling." 

Mrs.  Hutchins  went  out  first. 

"The  first  thing  I'd  do  if  I  owned  this  place,  I'd 


72  WHERE  THERE'S   A   WILL 

get  rid  of  that  red-haired  girl,"  she  snapped  to  Mr. 
Pierce.  "If  you  want  to  know  why  there  are  fewer 
guests  here  every  year,  I'll  tell  you.  She's  the  rea- 
son!" Then  she  flounced  out  with  her  head  up. 

(That  was  pure  piffle.  The  real  reason,  as  every 
thinking  person  knows,  is  Christian  Science.  It's 
cheaper  and  more  handy.  And  now  that  it  isn't 
heresy  to  say  it,  the  spring  being  floored  over,  I 
reckon  that  most  mineral  springs  cure  by  sugges- 
tion. Also,  of  course,  if  a  man's  drinking  four 
gallons  of  lithia  water  a  day,  he's  so  saturated  that 
if  he  does  throw  in  anything  alcoholic  or  indigesti- 
ble, it's  too  busy  swimming  for  its  life  to  do  any 
harm. ) 

Mr.  Pierce  took  a  quick  step  toward  Miss  Patty 
and  looked  down  at  her. 

"About — what  happened  down-stairs  to-night," 
he  stammered,  with  the  unhappiest  face  I  ever  saw 
on  a  man,  "I — I've  been  ready  to  knock  my  fool 
head  off  ever  since.  It  was  a  mistake — a — 

"My  letter,  please,"  said  Miss  Patty  coolly,  look- 
ing back  at  him  without  a  blink. 

"Please  don't  look  like  that!"  he  begged.  "I 
jcame  in  suddenly  out  of  the  darkness,  and  you — ' 


MR.    PIERCE   ACQUIRES    A   WIFE      73 

"My  letter,  please!"  she  said  again,  raising  her 
eyebrows. 

He  gave  up  trying  then.  He  held  out  the  letter 
and  she  took  it  and  went  out  with  her  head  up  and 
scorn  in  the  very  way  she  trailed  her  skirt  over  the 
door-sill.  But  I'm  no  fool;  it  didn't  need  the  way 
he  touched  the  door-knob  where  she  had  been  hold- 
ing it,  when  he  closed  the  door  after  her,  to  tell 
me  what  ailed  him.  He  was  crazy  about  her  from 
the  minute  he  saw  her,  and  he  hadn't  a  change  of 
linen  or  a  cent  to  his  name.  And  she,  as  you  might 
say,  on  the  ragged  edge  of  royalty,  with  queens 
and  princes  sending  her  stomachers  and  tiaras  un- 
til she'd  hardly  need  clothes!  Well,  a  cat  may 
look  at  a  king. 

He  went  over  to  the  fireplace,  where  I  was  put- 
ting his  coffee  to  keep  it  hot,  and  looked  down 
at  me. 

"I've  a  suspicion,  Minnie,"  he  said,  "that,  to  use 
a  vulgar  expression,  I've  bitten  off  more  than  I 
can  chew  in  this  little  undertaking,  and  that  I'm 
in  imminent  danger  of  choking  to  death.  Do  you 
know  anybody,  a  friend  of  Miss— er — Jennings, 
named  Dorothy?" 


74          WHERE   THERE'S   A   WILL 

"She's  got  a  younger  sister  of  that  name,"  I 
said,  with  a  sort  of  chill  going  over  me.  "She's 
in  boarding-school  now." 

"Oh,  no,  she's  not!"  he  remarked,  picking  up 
the  coffee-pot.  "It  seems  that  I  met  her  on  the 
train  somewhere  or  other  the  day  before  yesterday, 
and  ran  off  with  her  and  married  her!" 

I  sat  back  on  the  rug  speechless. 

"You  should  have  warned  me,  Minnie,"  he  went 
on,  growing  more  cheerful  over  his  chicken  and 
coffee.  "I  came  up  here  to-night,  the  proud  pos- 
sessor of  a  bunch  of  keys,  a  patent  folding  cork- 
screw and  a  pocket  automobile  road  map.  Inside 
two  hours  I  have  a  sanatorium  and  a  wife.  At  this 
rate,  Minnie,  before  morning  I  may  reasonably 
hope  to  have  a  family." 

I  sat  where  I  was  on  the  floor  and  stared  into 
the  fire.  Don't  tell  me  the  way  of  the  wicked  is 
hard ;  the  wicked  get  all  the  fun  there  is  out  of 
life,  and  as  far  as  I  can  see,  it's  the  respectable  "in 
at  ten  o'clock  and  up  at  seven"  part  of  the  wicked's 
family  that  has  all  the  trouble  and  does  the  wor- 
rying. 

"If  we  could  only  keep  it  hidden  for  a  few  days!" 


MR.    PIERCE   ACQUIRES    A   WIFE      75 

I  said.  "But,  of  course,  the  papers  will  get  it,  and 
just  now,  with  columns  every  day  about  Miss  Pat- 
ty's clothes — " 

"Her  what?" 

"And  all  the  princes  of  the  blood  sending  pres- 
ents, and  the  king  not  favoring  it  very  much — " 

"What  are  you  talking  about?" 

"About  Miss  Jennings'  wedding.  Don't  you 
read  the  newspaper?" 

He  hadn't  really  known  who  she  was  up  to  that 
minute.  He  put  down  the  tray  and  got  up. 

"I — I  hadn't  connected  her  with  the — the  news- 
paper Miss  Jennings,"  he  said,  and  lighted  a  cigar- 
ette over  the  lamp.  Something  in  his  face  startled 
me,  I  must  say. 

"You're  not  going  to  give  up  now?"  I  asked.  I 
got  up  and  put  my  hand  on  his  arm,  and  I  think 
he  was  shaking.  "If  you  do,  I'll — I'll  go  out  and 
drown  myself,  head  down,  in  the  spring." 

He  had  been  going  to  run  away — I  saw  it  then — 
but  he  put  a  hand  over  mine.  Then  he  looked  at 
the  door  where  Miss  Patty  had  gone  out  and  gave 
himself  a  shake. 

"I'll  stay,"  he  said.     "We'll  fight  it  out  on  this 


76          WHERE   THERE'S    A   WILL 

line  if  it  takes  all  summer,  Minnie."  He  stood 
looking  into  the  fire,  and  although  I'm  not  fond  of 
men,  knowing,  as  I  have  explained,  a  great  deal 
about  their  stomachs  and  livers  and  very  little  about 
their  hearts,  there  was  something  about  Mr.  Pierce 
that  made  me  want  to  go  up  and  pat  him  on  the 
head  like  a  little  boy.  "After  all,"  he  said,  "what's 
blue  blood  to  good  red  blood?" 

Which  was  almost  what  the  bishop  had  said! 


CHAPTER  VIII 

AND    MR.    MOODY    INDIGESTION 

MR.  MOODY  took  indigestion  that  night— 
not  but  that  he  always  had  it,  but  this  was 
worse — and  Mrs.  Moody  came  to  my  room  about 
two  o'clock  and  knocked  at  the  door. 

"You'd  better  come,"  she  said.  "There's  no  doc- 
tor, and  he's  awful  bad.  Blames  you,  too;  he  says 
you  made  him  take  a  salt  rub." 

"My  land,"  I  snapped,  trying  to  find  my  bed- 
room slippers,  "I  didn't  make  him  take  clam  chow- 
der for  supper,  and  that's  what's  the  matter  with 
him.  He's  going  on  a  strained  rice  diet,  that's  what 
he's  going  to  da  I've  got  to  have  my  sleep." 

She  was  waiting  in  the  hall  in  her  kimono,  and 
holding  a  candle.  Anybody  could  see  she'd  been 
crying.  As  she  often  said  to  me,  of  course  she  was 
grateful  that  Mr.  Moody  didn't  drink — no  one 
knew  his  virtues  better  than  she  did.  But  her  sis- 

77 


78  WHERE   THERE'S    A   WILL 

ter  married  a  man  who  went  on  a  terrible  bat  twice 
a  year,  and  all  the  rest  of  the  time  he  was  humble 
and  affable  trying  to  make  up  for  it.  And  some- 
times she  thought  if  Mr.  Moody  would  only  take  a 
little  whisky  when  he  had  these  attacks — !  I'd  rather 
be  the  wife  of  a  cheerful  drunkard  any  time  than 
have  to  live  with  a  cantankerous  saint.  Miss  Cobb 
and  I  had  had  many  a  fight  over  it,  but  at  that  time 
there  wasn't  much  likelihood  of  either  of  us  being 
called  on  to  choose. 

Well,  we  went  down  to  Mr.  Moody's  room,  and 
he  was  sitting  up  in  bed  with  his  knees  drawn  up 
to  his  chin  and  a  hot-water  bottle  held  to  him. 

"Look  at  your  work,  woman,"  he  said  to  me 
when  I  opened  the  door.  "I'm  dying!" 

"You  look  sick,"  I  said,  going  over  to  the  bed. 
It  never  does  to  cross  them  when  they  get  to  the 
water-bottle  stage.  "The  pharmacy  clerk's  gone 
to  a  dance  over  at  Trimble's,  but  I  guess  I  can  find 
you  some  whisky." 

"Do  have  some  whisky,  George,"  begged  Mrs. 
Moody,  remembering  her  brother-in-law. 

"I  never  touch  the  stuff  and  you  both  know  it," 
he  snarled.  He  had  a  fresh  pain  just  then  and 


AND    MR.    MOODY    INDIGESTION      79 

stopped,  clutching  up  the  bottle.  "Besides,"  he  fin- 
ished, when  it  was  over,  "I  haven't  got  any  whisky." 

Well,  to  make  a  long  story  short,  we  got  him  to 
agree  to  some  whisky  from  the  pharmacy,  with  a 
drop  of  peppermint  in  it,  if  he  could  wash  it  down 
with  spring  water  so  it  wouldn't  do  him  any  harm. 

"There  isn't  any  spring  water  in  the  house,"  I 
said,  losing  my  temper  a  little,  "and  I'm  not  going 
out  there  in  my  bedroom  slippers,  Mr.  Moody.  I 
don't  see  why  your  eating  what  you  shouldn't  needs 
to  give  me  pneumonia." 

Mrs.  Moody  was  standing  beside  the  bed,  and  I 
saw  her  double  chin  begin  to  work.  If  you  have 
ever  seen  a  fat  woman,  in  a  short  red  kimono  hold- 
ing a  candle  by,  a  bed,  and  crying,  you  know  how 
helpless  she  looks. 

"Don't  go,  Minnie,"  she  sniffled.  "It  would  be 
too  awful.  If  you  are  afraid  you  could  take  the 
poker." 

"I'm  not  going!"  I  declared  firmly.  "It's — it's 
dratted  idiocy,  that's  all.  Plain  water  would  do 
well  enough.  There's  a  lot  of  people  think  whisky  is 
poison  with  water,  anyhow.  Where's  the  pitcher?" 

Oh,  yes,  I  went.    I  put  on  some  stockings  of  Mrs. 


8o  WHERE   THERE'S   A   WILL 

Moody's  and  a  petticoat  and  a  shawl  and  started. 
It  was  when  I  was  in  the  pharmacy  looking  for  the 
peppermint  that  I  first  noticed  my  joint  again.  A 
joint  like  that's  a  blessing  or  a  curse,  the  way  you 
look  at  it. 

I  found  the  peppermint  and  some  whisky  and  put 
them  on  the  stairs.  Then  I  took  my  pitcher  and 
lantern  and  started  for  the  spring-house.  It  was 
still  snowing,  and  part  of  the  time  Mrs.  Moody's 
stockings  were  up  to  their  knees.  The  wind  was 
blowing  hard,  and  when  I  rounded  the  corner  of  the 
house  my  lantern  went  out.  I  stood  there  in  the 
storm,  with  the  shawl  flapping,  thanking  heaven  I 
was  a  single  woman,  and  about  ready  to  go  back 
and  tell  Mr.  Moody  what  I  thought  of  him  when  I 
looked  toward  the  spring-house. 

At  first  I  thought  it  was  afire,  then  I  saw  that 
the  light  was  coming  from  the  windows.  Somebody 
was  inside,  with  a  big  fire  and  all  the  lights  going. 

I'd  had  tramps  sleep  all  night  in  the  spring-house 
before,  and  once  they  left  a  card  by  the  spring: 
"Water,  water  everywhere  and  not  a  drop  to  drink !" 
So  I  started  out  through  the  snow  on  a  half  run. 
By  the  bridge  over  Hope  Springs  Creek  I  slipped 


AND   MR.   MOODY   INDIGESTION      81 

and  fell,  and  I  heard  the  pitcher  smash  to  bits  on 
the  ice  below.  But  as  soon  as  I  could  move  I  went 
on  again.  That  spring-house  had  been  my  home 
for  a  good  many  years,  and  the  tramp  didn't  live 
who  could  spend  the  night  there  if  I  knew  it. 

I  realized  then  that  I  should  have  taken  the  poker. 
I  went  over  cautiously  to  one  of  the  windows,  wad- 
ing in  deep  snow  to  get  there — and  if  you  have  ever 
done  that  in  a  pair  of  bedroom  slippers  you  can  real- 
ize the  state  of  my  mind — and  looked  in. 

There  were"  three  chairs  drawn  up  in  a  row  in 
front  of  the  fire,  with  my  bearskin  hearth-rug  on 
them  to  make  a  couch,  and  my  shepherd's  plaid  shawl 
folded  at  one  end  for  a  pillow.  And  stretched  on 
that  with  her  long  sealskin  coat  laid  over  her  was 
Dorothy  Jennings,  Miss  Patty's  younger  sister!  She 
was  alone,  as  far  as  I  could  see,  and  she  was  leaning 
on  her  elbow  with  her  cheek  in  her  hand,  staring  at 
the  fire.  Just  then  the  door  into  the  pantry  opened 
and  out  came  Mr.  Dick  himself. 

"Were  you  calling,  honey  ?"  he  said,  coming  over 
and  looking  down  at  her. 

"You  were  such  a  long  time !"  says  she,  glancing 
up  under  her  lashes  at  him.  "I — I  was  lonely!" 


82  WHERE   THERE'S   A   WILL 

"Bless  you,"  says  Mr.  Dick,  stooping  over  her. 
"What  did  I  ever  do  without  you?" 

I  could  have  told  her  a  few  things  he  did,  but  by 
that  time  it  was  coming  over  me  pretty  strong  that 
here  was  the  real  Dicky  Carter  and  that  I  had  an 
extra  one  on  my  hands.  The  minute  I  looked  at 
this  one  I  knew  that  nobody  but  a  blind  man  would 
mistake  one  for  the  other,  and  Mr.  Thoburn  wasn't 
blind.  I  tell  you  I  stood  out  in  that  snow-bank  and 
perspired ! 

When  I  looked  again  Mr.  Dick  was  on  his  knees 
by  the  row  of  chairs,  and  Miss  Dorothy — Mrs. 
Dicky,  of  course — was  running  her  fingers  through 
his  hair. 

"Minnie  used  to  keep  apples  and  things  in  the 
pantry,"  he  said,  "but  she  must  be  growing  stingy 
in  her  old  age;  there's  not  a  bite  there." 

"I'm  not  so  very  hungry  when  I  have  you!" 
cooed  Mrs.  Dicky. 

"But  you  can't  eat  me."  He  brought  her  hand 
down  from  his  hair — I  may  be  stingy  in  my  old 
age,  but  I've  learned  a  few  things,  and  one  is  that 
a  man  feels  like  a  fool  with  his  hair  rumpled,  and 
I  can  tell  the  degree  of  a  woman's  experience  by  the 


AND   MR.    MOODY   INDIGESTION      83 

way  she  lets  his  top  hair  alone — and  pretended  to 
bite  it,  her  hand,  of  course.  "Although  I  could  eat 
you,"  he  said.  "I'd  like  to  take  a  bite  out  of  your 
throat  right  there." 

Well,  it  was  no  place  for  me  unless  they  knew  I 
was  around.  I  waded  around  to  the  door  and 
walked  in,  and  there  was  a  grand  upsetting  of  the 
sealskin  coat  and  my  shepherd's  plaid  shawl.  Mr. 
Dick  jumped  to  his  feet  and  Mrs.  Dick  sat  bolt  up- 
right and  stared  at  me  over  the  backs  of  the  chairs. 

"Minnie!"  cried  Mr.  Dick.  "As  I'm  a  married 
man,  it's  Minnie  herself;  Minnie,  the  guardian  an- 
gel! The  spirit  of  the  place!  Dorothy,  don't  you 
remember  Minnie?" 

She  came  toward  me  with  her  hand  out.  She  was 
a  pretty  little  thing,  not  so  beautiful  as  Miss  Patty, 
but  with  a  nice  way  about  her. 

"I'm  awfully  glad  to  see  you  again,"  she  said. 
"Of  course  I  remember — why  you  are  hardly  dressed 
at  all!  You  must  be  frozen!" 

I  went  over  to  the  fire  and  emptied  my  bedroom 
slippers  of  snow.  Then  I  sat  down  and  looked  at 
them  both. 

"Frozen!"  repeated  I;  "I'm  in  a  hot  sweat.     If 


84          WHERE  THERE'S   A   WILL 

you  two  children  meant  to  come,  why  in  creation 
didn't  you  come  in  time?" 

"We  did,"  replied  Mr.  Dick,  promptly.  "We 
crawled  under  the  wire  fence  into  the  deer  park  at 
five  minutes  to  twelve.  The  will  said  'Be  on  the 
ground,'  and  I  was — flat  on  the  ground !" 

"We've  had  the  police,"  I  said,  drearily  enough. 
"I  wouldn't  live  through  another  day  like  yesterday 
for  a  hundred  dollars." 

"We  were  held  up  by  the  snow,"  he  explained. 
"We  got  a  sleigh  to  come  over  in,  but  we  walked  up 
the  hill  and  came  here.  I  don't  mind  saying  that  my 
wife's  people  don't  know  about  this  yet,  and  we're 
going  to  lay  low  until  we've  cooked  up  some  sort  of 
a  scheme  to  tell  them."  Then  he  came  over  and 
put  his  hand  on  my  shoulder. 

"Poor  old  Minnie!"  he  said;  "honest,  I'm  sorry. 
I've  been  a  hard  child  to  raise,  haven't  I  ?  But  that's 
all  over,  Minnie.  I've  got  an  incentive  now,  and  it's 
'steady,  old  boy/  for  me  from  now.  You  and  I  will 
run  the  place  and  run  it  right." 

"I  don't  want  to!"  I  retorted,  holding  my  bed- 
room slippers  to  steam  before  the  fire.  "I'm  going 


AND   MR.    MOODY   INDIGESTION      85 

to  buy  out  Timmon's  candy  store  and  live  a  quiet 
life,  Mr.  Dick.  This  place  is  making  me  old." 

"Nonsense!  We're  going  to  work  together,  and 
we'll  make  this  the  busiest  spot  in  seven  counties. 
Dorothy  and  I  have  got  it  all  planned  out  and  we've 
got  some  corking  good  ideas."  He  put  his  hands 
in  his  pockets  and  strutted  up  and  down.  "It's  the 
day  of  advertising,  you  know,  Minnie,"  he  said. 
"You've  got  to  have  the  goods,  and  then  you've  got 
to  let  people  know  you've  got  the  goods.  What 
would  you  say  to  a  shooting-gallery  in  the  basement, 
under  the  reading-room?" 

"Fine!"  I  said,  with  sarcasm,  turning  my  slippers. 
"If  things  got  too  quiet  that  would  wake  them  up 
a  bit,  and  we  could  have  a  balloon  ascension  o« 
Saturdays !" 

"Not  an  ascension,"  said  he,  with  my  bitterness 
going  right  over  his  head.  "Nothing  sensational, 
Minnie.  That's  the  way  with  women;  they're  al- 
ways theatrical.  But  what's  the  matter  with  a  cap- 
tive balloon,  and  letting  fresh-air  cranks  sleep  in  a 
big  basket  bed — say,  at  five  hundred  feet?  Or  a 
thousand — a  thousand  would  be  better.  The  air's 
purer." 


86  WHERE   THERE'S    A   WILL 

"With  a  net  below,"  says  I,  "in  case  they  should 
turn  over  and  fall  out  of  bed!  It's  funny  nobody 
ever  thought  of  it  before !" 

"Isn't  it?"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Dick.  "And  we've  all 
sorts  of  ideas.  Dick — Mr.  Carter  has  learned  of  a 
brand  new  cocktail  for  the  men — " 

"A  lulu!"  he  broke  in. 

"And  I'm  going  around  to  read  to  the  old  ladies 
and  hold  their  hands — " 

"You'll  have  to  chloroform  them  first,"  I  put  in. 
"Perhaps  it  would  be  better  to  give  the  women  the 
cocktail  and  hold  the  men's  hands." 

"Oh,  if  you're  going  to  be  funny!"  Mr.  Dick  said 
savagely,  "we'll  not  tell  you  any  more.  I've  been 
counting  on  you,  Minnie.  You've  been  here  so  long. 
You  know,"  he  said  to  his  wife,  "when  I  was  a  little 
shaver  I  thought  Minnie  had  webbed- feet — she  was 
always  on  the  bank,  like  a  duck.  You  are  a  duck, 
Minnie,"  he  says  to  me;  "a  nice  red-headed  duck! 
Now  don't  be  quirky  and  spoil  everything." 

I  couldn't  be  light-hearted  to  save  my  life. 

"Your  sister's  been  wild  all  day,"  I  told  Mrs. 
Dick.  "She  got  your  letter  to-day — yesterday — but 
I  don't  think  she's  told  your  father  yet." 


AND    MR.    MOODY    INDIGESTION      87 

"What!"  she  screeched,  and  caught  at  the  mantel- 
piece to  hold  herself.  "Not  Pat!"  she  said,  horri- 
fied, "and  father!  Here!" 

Well,  I  listened  while  they  told  me.  They  hadn't 
had  the  faintest  idea  that  Mr.  Jennings  and  Miss 
Patty  were  there  at  the  sanatorium.  The  girl  had 
been  making  a  round  of  visits  in  the  Christmas  holi- 
days, and  instead  of  going  back  to  school  she'd  sent 
a  forged  excuse  and  got  a  month  off — she  hadn't 
had  any  letters,  of  course.  The  plan  had  been  not 
to  tell  anybody  but  her  sister  until  Mr.  Dick  had 
made  good  at  the  sanatorium. 

"The  idea  was  this,  Minnie,"  said  Mr.  Dick.  "Old 
— I  mean  Mr.  Jennings  is — is  not  well;  he  has  a 
chronic  indisposition — 

"Disposition,  I  call  it,"  put  in  Mr.  Jennings' 
daughter. 

"And  he's  apt  to  regard  my  running  away  with 
Dorothy  when  I  haven't  a  penny  as  more  of  an  em- 
bezzlement than  an  elopement." 

"Fiddle!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Dick.  "I  asked  you  to 
marry  me,  and  now  they're  here  and  have  to  spoil 
it  all." 

The  thought  of  her  father  and  his  disposition  sud- 


88          WHERE  THERE'S   A  WILL 

denly  overpowered  her  and  she  put  her  yellow  head 
on  the  back  of  a  chair  and  began  to  cry. 

"I — I  can't  tell  him!"  she  sobbed.  "I  wrote  to 
Pat, — why  doesn't  Pat  tell  him  ?  I'm  going  back  to 
school." 

"You'll  do  nothing  of  the  sort.  You're  a  married 
woman  now,  and  where  I  go  you  go.  My  country 
is  your  country,  and  my  sanatorium  is  your  sana- 
torium." He  was  in  a  great  rage. 

But  she  got  up  and  began  trying  to  pull  on  her 
fur  coat,  and  her  jaw  was  set.  She  looked  like  her 
father  for  a  minute. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  he  asked,  looking  scared. 

"Anywhere.  I'll  go  down  to  the  station  and  take 
the  first  train,  it  doesn't  matter  where  to."  She 
picked  up  her  muff,  but  he  went  over  and  stood 
against  the  door. 

"Not  a  step  without  me!"  he  declared.  "I'll  go 
with  you,  of  course ;  you  know  that.  I'm  not  afraid 
of  your  father:  I'd  as  soon  as  not  go  in  and  wake 
him  now  and  tell  him  the  whole  thing — that  you've 
married  a  chap  who  isn't  worth  the  butter  on  his 
bread,  who  can't  buy  you  kid  gloves — 

"But  you  will,  as  soon  as  the  sanatorium  sue- 


AND   MR.    MOODY    INDIGESTION      89 

ceeds!"  she  put  in  bravely.  She  put  down  her  muff. 
"Don't  tell  him  to-night,  anyhow.  Maybe  Pat  will 
think  of  some  way  to  break  it  to  him.  She  can  do 
a  lot  with  father." 

"I  hope  she  can  think  of  some  way  to  break  an- 
other Richard  Carter  to  the  people  in  the  house,"  I 
said  tartly. 

"Another  Richard  Carter!"  they  said  together, 
and  then  I  told  them  about  how  we  had  waited  and 
got  desperate,  and  how  we'd  brought  in  Mr.  Pierce 
at  the  last  minute  and  that  he  was  asleep  now  at  the 
house.  They  roared.  To  save  my  life  I  couldn't 
see  that  it  was  funny.  But  when  I  came  to  the  part 
about  Thoburn  being  there,  and  his  having  had  a 
good  look  at  Mr.  Pierce,  and  that  he  was  waiting 
around  with  his  jaws  open  to  snap  up  the  place  when 
it  fell  under  the  hammer,  Mr.  Dick  stopped  laughing 
and  looked  serious. 

"Lord  deliver  us  from  our  friends!"  he  said. 
"Between  you  and  Sam,  you've  got  things  in  a  lovely 
mess,  Minnie.  What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it 
now?" 

"It's  possible  we  can  get  by  Thoburn,"  I  said. 
"You  can  slip  in  to-night,  we  can  get  Mr.  Pierce  out 


90  WHERE   THERE'S    A    WILL 

— Lord  knows  he'll  be  glad  to  go — and  Miss  Doro- 
thy can  go  back  to  school.  Then,  later,  when  you've 
got  things  running  and  are  making  good — " 

"I'm  not  going  back  to  school,"  she  declared,  "but 
I'll  go  away;  I'll  not  stand  in  your  way,  Dicky." 
She  took  two  steps  toward  the  door  and  waited  for 
him  to  stop  her. 

"Nonsense,  Minnie,"  he  exclaimed  angrily  and 
put  his  arm  around  her,  "I  won't  be  separated  from 
my  wife.  You  got  me  into  this  scrape,  and— 

"I  didn't  marry  you !"  I  retorted.  "And  I'm  not 
responsible  for  your  father-in-law's  disposition." 

"You'll  have  to  help  us  out,"  he  finished. 

"What  shall  I  do?  Murder  Mr.  Jennings?"  I 
asked  bitterly.  "If  you  expect  me  to  suggest  that 
you  both  go  to  the  house,  and  your  wife  can  hide  in 
your  rooms — 

"Why  not?"  asked  Mr.  Dick. 

Well,  I  sat  down  again  and  explained  patiently 
that  it  would  get  out  among  the  servants  and  cause 
a  scandal,  and  that  even  if  it  didn't  I  wasn't  going  to 
have  any  more  deception :  I  had  enough  already. 
And  after  a  while  they  saw  it  as  I  did,  and  agreed 
to  wait  and  see  Miss  Patty  before  they  decided. 


AND   MR.    MOODY   INDIGESTION      91 

They  wanted  to  have  her  wakened  at  once,  but  I 
refused,  although  I  agreed  to  bring  her  out  first 
thing  in  the  morning. 

"But  you  can't  stay  here,"  I  said.  "There'll  be 
Miss  Cobb  at  nine  o'clock,  and  the  man  comes  to 
light  the  fire  at  eight." 

"We  could  go  to  the  old  shelter-house  on  the  golf 
links,"  suggested  Mr.  Dick,  looking  me  square  in 
the  eye.  (I  took  the  hint,  and  Mrs.  Dicky  never 
knew  he  had  been  hidden  there  before.)  "Nobody 
ever  goes  near  it  in  winter."  So  I  put  on  my  slip- 
pers again  and  we  started  through  the  snow  across 
the  golf  links,  Mr.  Dick  carrying  a  bundle  of  fire- 
wood, and  I  leading  the  way  with  my  lantern. 
Twice  I  went  into  a  drift  to  my  waist,  and  once  a 
rabbit  bunted  into  me  head  on,  and  would  have 
scared  me  into  a  chill  if  I  hadn't  been  shaking 
already.  The  two  behind  me  were  cheerful  enough. 
Mr.  Dick  pointed  out  the  general  direction  of  the 
deer  park  which  hides  the  shelter-house  from  the 
sanatorium,  and  if  you'll  believe  it,  with  snow  so 
thick  I  had  to  scrape  it  off  the  lantern  every  minute 
or  so,  those  children  planned  to  give  something 
called  A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream  in  the  deer 


92  WHERE   THERE'S    A   WILL 

park  among  the  trees  in  the  spring,  to  entertain  the 
patients. 

"I  wish  to  heaven  I'd  wake  up  and  find  all  this  a 
dream,"  I  called  back  over  my  shoulder.  But  they 
were  busy  with  costumes  and  getting  some  folks 
they  knew  from  town  to  take  the  different  parts  and 
they  never  even  heard  me.  The  last  few  yards  they 
snowballed  each  other  and  me.  I  tell  you  I  felt  a 
hundred  years  old. 

We  got  into  the  shelter-house  by  my  crawling 
through  a  window,  and  when  we  had  lighted  the  fire 
and  hung  up  the  lantern,  it  didn't  seem  so  bad.  The 
place  had  been  closed  since  summer,  and  it  seemed 
colder  than  outside,  but  those  two  did  the  barn 
dance  then  and  there.  There  were  two  rooms,  and 
Mr.  Dick  had  always  used  the  back  one  to  hide  in. 
It's  a  good  thing  Airs.  Dick  was  not  a  suspicious 
person.  Many  a  woman  would  have  wondered 
when  she  saw  him  lift  a  board  in  the  floor  and  take 
out  a  rusty  tin  basin,  a  cake  of  soap,  a  r^oldy  towel, 
a  can  of  sardines,  a  tooth-brush  and  a  rubber  car- 
riage robe  to  lay  over  the  rafters  under  the  hole  in 
the  roof.  But  it's  been  my  experience  that  the  first 
few  days  of  married  life  women  are  blind  because 


AND    MR.    MOODY   INDIGESTION      93 

they  want  to  be  and  after  that  because  they  have 
to  be. 

It  was  about  four  when  I  left  them,  sitting  on  a 
soap  box  in  front  of  the  fire  toasting  sardines  on 
the  end  of  Mr.  Dick's  walking-stick.  Mrs.  Dick 
made  me  put  on  her  sealskin  coat,  and  I  took  the 
lantern,  leaving  them  in  the  firelight.  They'd  gone 
back  to  the  captive  balloon  idea  and  were  wondering 
if  they  couldn't  get  it  copyrighted ! 

I  took  a  short  cut  home,  crawling  through  the 
barbed-wire  fence  and  going  through  the  deer  park. 
I  was  too  tired  and  cold  to  think.  I  stumbled  down 
the  hill  to  the  house,  and  just  before  I  got  to  the 
corner  I  heard  voices,  and  the  shuffling  of  feet 
through  the  snow.  The  next  instant  a  lantern  came 
around  the  corner  of  the  house.  Mr.  Thoburn  was 
carrying  it,  and  behind  him  were  the  bishop,  Mike 
the  bath  man,  and  Mr.  Pierce. 

"It's  like  that  man  Moody,"  the  bishop  was  say- 
ing angrily,  "to  send  the  girl — " 

"Piffle!"  snarled  Mr.  Thoburn.  "If  ever  a 
woman  was  able  to  take  care  of  herself — "  And 
then  they  saw  me,  and  they  all  stopped  and  stared. 

"Good  gracious,  girl!"  said  the  bishop,  with  his 


94          WHERE   THERE'S    A   WILL 

dressing-gown  blowing  out  straight  behind  him  in 
the  wind.  "We  thought  you'd  been  buried  in  a 
drift!" 

"I  don't  see  why!"  I  retorted  defiantly.  "Can't 
I  go  out  to  my  own  spring-house  without  having  a 
posse  after  me  to  bring  me  back  ?" 

"Ordinarily,"  said  Mr.  Thoburn,  with  his  snaky 
eyes  on  me,  "I  think  I  may  say  that  you  might  go 
almost  anywhere  without  my  turning  out  to  recover 
you.  But  Mrs.  Moody  is  having  hysterics." 

Mrs.  Moody !     I'd  forgotten  the  Moody s ! 

"She  is  convinced  that  you  have  drowned  your- 
self, head  down,  in  the  spring,"  Mr.  Pierce  said  in 
his  pleasant  way.  "You've  been  gone  two  hours, 
you  know." 

He  took  my  arm  and  turned  me  toward  the  house. 
I  was  dazed. 

"In  answer  to  your  urgent  inquiry,"  Mr.  Thoburn 
called  after  me,  disagreeably,  "Mr.  Moody  has  not 
died.  He  is  asleep.  But,  by  the  way,  where's  the 
spring  water?" 

I  didn't  answer  him;  I  couldn't.  We  went  into 
the  house;  Mrs.  Moody  and  Miss  Cobb  were  sit- 
ting on  the  stairs.  Mrs.  Moody  had  been  crying, 


and  Miss  Cobb  was  feeding  her  the  whisky  I  had 
left,  with  a  teaspoon.  She  had  had  a  half  tumbler- 
ful already  and  was  quite  maudlin.  She  ran  to  me 
and  put  her  arms  around  me. 

"I  thought  I  was  a  murderess!"  she  cried.     "Oh, 
the  thought!     Blood  on  my  soul!     Why,  Minnie 

Waters,  wherever  did  you  get  that  sealskin  coat !" 

\ 


CHAPTER    IX 

DOLLY,  HOW  COULD  YOU? 

I  LAY  down  across  my  bed  at  six  o'clock  that 
morning,  but  I  was  too  tired  and  worried  to 
sleep,  so  at  seven  I  got  up  and  dressed.  I  was 
frightened  when  I  saw  myself  in  the  glass.  My 
eyes  looked  like  burnt  holes  in  a  blanket.  I  put  on 
two  pairs  of  stockings  and  heavy  shoes,  for  I  knew 
I  was  going  to  do  the  Eskimo  act  again  that  day  and 
goodness  knows  how  many  days  more,  and  then  I 
went  down  and  knocked  at  the  door  of  Miss  Patty's 
room.  She  hadn't  been  sleeping  either.  She  called 
to  me  in  an  undertone  to  come  in,  and  she  was  lying 
propped  up  with  pillows,  with  something  pink  around 
her  shoulders  and  the  night  lamp  burning  beside  the 
bed.  She  had  a  book  in  her  hand,  but  all  over  the 
covers  and  on  the  table  at  her  elbow  were  letters  in 
the  blue  foreign  envelopes  with  the  red  and  black  and 
gold  seal. 

96 


DOLLY,  HOW  COULD  YOU?    97 

I  walked  over  to  the  foot  of  the  bed. 

'They're  here,"  I  said. 

She  sat  up,  and  some  letters  slid  to  the  floor. 

"They're  here!"  she  repeated.  "Do  you  mean 
Dorothy  ?" 

"She  and  her  husband.  They  came  last  night  at 
five  minutes  to  twelve.  Their  train  was  held  up  by 
the  blizzard  and  they  won't  come  in  until  they  see 
you.  They're  hiding  in  the  shelter-house  on  the 
golf  links." 

I  think  she  thought  I  was  crazy :  I  looked  it.  She 
hopped  out  of  bed  and  closed  the  door  into  her  sit- 
ting-room— Mrs.  Hutchins'  room  opened  off  it — 
and  then  she  came  over  and  put  her  hand  on  my  arm. 

"Will  you  sit  down  and  try  to  tell  me  just  what 
you  mean?"  she  said.  "How  can  my  sister  and 
her — her  wretch  of  a  husband  have  come  last  night 
at  midnight  when  I  saw  Mr.  Carter  myself  not  later 
than  ten  o'clock?" 

Well,  I  had  to  tell  her  then  about  who  Mr.  Pierce 
was  and  why  I  had  to  get  him,  and  she  understood 
almost  at  once.  She  was  the  most  understanding 
girl  I  ever  met.  She  saw  at  once  what  Mr.  Sam 
wouldn't  have  known  in  a  thousand  years — that  I 


98          WHERE  THERE'S   A  WILL 

wanted  to  save  the  old  place — not  to  keep  my  posi- 
tion— but  because  I'd  been  there  so  long,  and  my 
father  before  me,  and  had  helped  to  make  it  what  it 
was  and  all  that  And  she  stood  there  in  her  night- 
gown— she  who  was  almost  a  princess — and  listened 
to  me,  and  patted  me  on  the  shoulder  when  I  broke 
down,  telling  her  about  Thoburn  and  the  summer 
hotel. 

"But  here  I  am,"  I  finished,  "telling  you  about 
my  troubles  and  forgetting  what  I  came  for.  You'll 
have  to  go  out  to  the  shelter-house,  Miss  Patty. 
And  I  guess  you're  expected  to  fix  it  up  with  your 
father." 

She  stopped  unfastening  her  long  braids  of  hair. 

"Certainly  I'll  go  to  the  shelter-house,"  she  said, 
"and  I'll  shake  a  little  sense  into  Dorothy  Jennings 
—the  abominable  little  idiot!  But  they  needn't 
think  I'm  going  to  help  them  with  father;  I  wouldn't 
if  I  could,  and  I  can't.  He  won't  speak  to  me.  I'm 
in  disgrace,  Minnie."  She  gave  her  hair  a  shake, 
twisted  it  into  a  rope  and  then  a  knot,  and  stuck  a 
pin  in  it.  It  was  lovely:  I  wish  Miss  Cobb  could 
have  seen  her.  "You've  known  father  for  years, 
Minnie :  have  you  ever  known  him  to  be  so — so — " 


DOLLY,  HOW  COULD  YOU?    99 

"Devilish"  was  the  word  she  meant,  but  I  finished 

for  her. 

"Unreasonable?"  I  said.  "Well,  once  before 
when  you  were  a  little  girl,  he  put  his  cane  through 
a  window  in  the  spring-house,  because  he  thought  it 
needed  air.  The  spring-house,  of  course,  not  the 
cane." 

"Exactly,"  she  said,  looking  around  the  room, 
"and  now  he's  putting  a  cane  through  every  plan  I 
have  made.  Do  you  see  my  heavy  boots?" 

"It's  like  this,"  I  remarked,  bringing  the  boots 
from  outside  the  door,  "if  he's  swallowed  the 
prince  and  is  choking  on  the  settlement  question  he 
might  as  well  get  over  it.  All  those  foreigners  ex- 
pect pay  for  taking  a  wife.  Didn't  the  chef  here 
want  to  marry  Tillie,  the  diet  cook,  and  didn't  he 
want  her  to  turn  over  the  three  hundred  dollars  she 
had  in  the  bank,  and  her  real  estate,  which  was  a 
sixth  interest  in  a  cemetery  lot  ?  But  Tillie  stuck  it 
out  and  he  wouldn't  take  her  without." 

"It  isn't  quite  the  same,  Minnie,"  she  said,  sitting 
down  on  the  floor  to  put  on  her  stockings. 

"The  principle's  the  same,"  I  retorted,  "and  if 
you  ask  me — " 


ioo        WHERE  THERE'S   A  WILL 

"I  haven't,"  she  said  disagreeably,  "and  when 
you  begin  to  argue,  Minnie,  you  make  my  head 
ache." 

"I  have  had  a  heartache  for  a  week,"  I  snapped, 
"let  alone  heartburn,  and  I'll  be  glad  when  the  Jen- 
nings family  is  safely  married  and  I  can  sleep  at 
night." 

I  was  hurt  I  went  out  and  shut  the  door  behind 
me,  but  I  stopped  in  the  hall  and  went  back. 

"I  forgot  to  say,"  I  began,  and  stopped.  She  was 
still  sitting  on  the  floor,  trying  to  put  her  heavy 
boots  on,  and  crying  all  over  them. 

"Stop  that  instantly,"  I  said,  and  jerked  her  shoes 
from  her.  "Get  into  a  chair  and  let  me  put  them  on. 
And  if  you  will  wait  a  jiffy  I'll  bring  you  a  cup  of 
coffee.  I'm  not  even  a  Christian  in  the  morning 
until  I've  had  my  coffee." 

"You  haven't  had  it  yet,  have  you?"  she  asked, 
and  we  laughed  together,  rather  shaky.  But  as  I 
buttoned  her  shoes  I  saw  her  eyes  going  toward 
the  blue  letters  on  the  bed. 

"Oh,  Minnie,"  she  said,  "if  you  only  knew  how 
peculiar  they  are  in  Europe !  They'll  never  allow  a 
sanatorium  in  the  family !" 


DOLLY,   HOW  COULD   YOU?       101 

"I  guess  a  good  many  would  be  the  better  for 
having  one  close,"  I  said. 

Well,  I  left  her  to  get  dressed  and  went  to  the 
kitchens.  Tillie  was  there  getting  the  beef  tea  ready 
for  the  day,  but  none  of  the  rest  was  around.  They 
knew  the  housekeeper  was  gone,  but  I  guess  they'd 
forgotten  that  /  was  still  on  hand.  I  put  a  kettle 
against  the  electric  bell  that  rings  in  the  chef's  room 
so  it  would  keep  on  ringing  and  went  on  into  the 
diet  kitchen. 

"Tillie,"  I  said,  "can  you  trust  me?" 

She  looked  up  from  her  beef. 

"Whether  I  can  or  not,  I  always  have,"  she  an- 
swered. 

"Well,  can  I  trust  you?  That's  more  to  the  point." 

She  put  down  her  knife  and  came  over  to  me, 
with  her  hands  on  her  hips. 

"I  don't  know  what  you're  up  to,  Minnie,"  she 
said,  "and  I  don't  know  that  I  care.  But  if  you've 
forgotten  the  time  I  went  to  the  city  and  brought 
you  sulphur  and  the  Lord  only  knows  what  for  your 
old  spring  when  you'd  run  short  and  were  laid  up 
with  influenza — " 

"Hush!"  I  exclaimed.     "You  needn't  shout  it. 


102         WHERE   THERE'S   A   WILL 

Tillie,  I  don't  want  you  to  ask  me  any  questions, 
but  I  want  four  raw  eggs  in  a  basket,  a  pot  of  coffee 
and  cream,  some  fruit  if  you  can  get  it  when  the 
chef  unlocks  the  refrigerator  room,  and  bread  and 
butter.  They  can  make  their  own  toast." 

"They  ?"  she  said,  with  her  mouth  open. 

But  I  didn't  explain  any  more.  I  had  found 
Tillie  about  a  year  before,  frying  sausages  at  the 
railroad  station,  and  made  her  diet  cook  at  the  sana- 
torium. Mrs.  Wiggins  hadn't  wanted  her,  but,  as  I 
told  the  old  doctor  at  the  time,  we  needed  somebody 
in  the  kitchen  to  keep  an  eye  on  things  for  us.  It  was 
through  Tillie  that  we  discovered  that  the  help 
were  having  egg-nog  twice  a  day,  with  eggs  as 
scarce  as  hens'  teeth,  and  the  pharmacy  clerk  put- 
ting in  a  requisition  for  more  whisky  every  week. 

Well,  I  scribbled  a  note  to  Mr.  Van  Alstyne, 
telling  what  had  happened,  and  put  it  under  his 
door,  and  then  I  met  Miss  Patty  in  the  hall  by  the 
billiard  room  and  I  gave  her  some  coffee  from  the 
basket,  in  the  sun  parlor.  It  was  still  dark,  although 
it  was  nearly  eight  o'clock,  and  nobody  saw  us  go 
out  together.  Just  as  we  left  I  heard  the  chef  in 
the  kitchen  bawling  out  that  he'd  murder  whoever 


DOLLY,   HOW  COULD   YOU?       103 

put  the  kettle  against  the  bell,  and  Tillie  saying  it 
must  have  dropped  off  the  hook  and  landed  there. 

We  went  to  the  spring-house  first,  to  avoid  sus- 
picion, and  then  across  back  of  the  deer  park  to  the 
shelter-house.  It  was  still  snowing,  but  not  so 
much,  and  the  tracks  we  had  made  early  in  the 
morning  were  still  there,  mine  off  to  one  side  alone, 
and  the  others  close  together  and  side  by  side. 
There  was  a  whole  history  in  those  snow  tracks, 
mine  alone  and  kind  of  offish,  and  the  others  cud- 
dling together.  It  made  me  lonely  to  look  at  them. 
I  remember  wishing  I'd  taught  school,  as  I  was  edu- 
cated to;  woman  wasn't  made  to  live  alone,  and 
most  school-teachers  get  married. 

Miss  Patty  did  not  say  much.  She  was  holding 
her  chin  high  and  looking  rather  angry  and  deter- 
mined. At  the  spring-house  I  gave  her  the  basket 
and  took  an  armful  of  fire-wood  myself.  I  knew 
Mr.  Dick  would  never  think  of  it  until  the  fire  was 
out. 

They  were  both  asleep  in  the  shelter-house.  He 
was  propped  up  against  the  wall  on  a  box,  with  the 
rubber  carriage  robe  around  him,  and  she  was  lying 
by  the  fire,  with  Mrs.  Moody's  shawl  over  her  and 


104        WHERE   THERE'S   A   WILL 

her  muff  under  her  head.  Miss  Patty  stood  in  the 
doorway  for  an  instant.  Then  she  walked  over  and, 
leaning  down,  shook  her  sister  by  the  arm. 

"Dorothy!"  she  said.  "Wake  up,  you  wretched 
child !"  And  shook  her  again. 

Mrs.  Dicky  groaned  and  yawned,  and  opened  her 
eyes  one  at  a  time.  But  when  she  saw  it  was  Miss 
Patty  she  sat  up  at  once,  looking  dazed  and  fright- 
ened. 

"You  needn't  pinch  me,  Pat!"  she  said,  and  at 
that  Mr.  Dick  wakened  and  jumped  up,  with  the 
carriage  robe  still  around  him. 

"Oh,  Dolly,  Dolly!"  said  Miss  Patty  suddenly, 
dropping  on  her  knees  beside  Mrs.  Dicky,  "what  a 
bad  little  girl  you  are!  What  a  thing  for  you  to 
do!  Think  of  father  and  Aunt  Honoria!" 

"I  shan't,"  retorted  Airs.  Dicky  decidedly.  "I'm 
not  going  to  spoil  my  honeymoon  like  that.  For 
heaven's  sake,  Pat,  don't  cry.  I'm  not  dead.  Dick, 
this  is  my  sister,  Patricia." 

Miss  Pat  looked  at  him,  but  she  didn't  bow.  She 
gave  him  one  look,  from  his  head  to  his  heels. 

"Dolly,  how  could  you!"  she  said,  and  got  up. 

It  wasn't  very  comfortable  for  Mr.  Dick,  but  he 


DOLLY,    HOW   COULD    YOU?       105 

took  it  much  better  than  I  expected.  He  went  over 
and  gave  his  wife  a  hand  to  help  her  up,  and  still 
holding  hers,  he  turned  to  Miss  Patty. 

"You  are  perfectly  right,"  he  said,  "I  don't  see 
how  she  could  myself.  The  more  you  know  of  me 
the  more  you'll  wonder.  But  she  did;  we're  up 
against  that." 

He  grinned  at  Miss  Patty,  and  after  a  minute 
Miss  Patty  smiled  back.  But  it  wasn't  much  of  a 
smile.  I  was  unpacking  the  breakfast,  putting  the 
coffee-pot  on  the  fire  and  getting  ready  to  cook  the 
eggs  and  make  toast.  But  I  was  watching,  too. 
Suddenly  Mrs.  Dick  made  a  dive  for  Miss  Patty 
and  threw  her  arms  around  her. 

"You  darling!"  she  cried.  "I'm  so  glad  to  see 
you  again — Pat,  you'll  tell  father,  won't  you?  He'll 
take  it  from  you.  If  I  tell  him  he'll  have  apoplexy 
or  something." 

But  Miss  Patty  set  her  pretty  mouth — both  those 
girls  have  their  father's  mouth — and  held  her  sister 
out  at  arm's  length  and  looked  at  her. 

"Listen,"  she  said.  "Do  you  know  what  you 
have  done  to  me  ?  Do  you  know  that  when  father 
knows  this  he's  goiag  to  annul  the  marriage  or  have 


io6         WHERE   THERE'S    A    WILL 

Mr.  Carter  arrested  for  kidnaping  or  abduction? — 
whatever  it  is."  Mrs.  Dick  puckered  her  face  to 
cry,  and  Mr.  Dick  took  a  step  forward,  but  Miss 
Patty  waved  him  off.  "You  know  father  as  well  as 
I  do,  Dolly.  You  know  what  he  is,  and  lately  he's 
been  awful.  He's  not  well — it's  his  liver  again 
— and  he  won't  listen  to  anything.  Why,  the  Aus- 
trian ambassador  came  up  here,  all  this  distance,  to 
talk  about  the  etiquette  tii  the — of  my  wedding, 
something  about  precedence,  and  he  wouldn't  even 
see  him." 

"He  can't  annul  it,"  said  Mr.  Dick  angrily.  "I'm 
of  age.  And  I  can  support  my  wife,  too,  or  will  be 
able — soon." 

"Dolly's  not  of  age,"  said  Miss  Patty  wearily. 
"I've  sat  up  all  night  figuring  it  out.  He's  going  to 
annul  the  marriage,  or  he'll  make  a  scandal  any- 
how, and  that's  just  as  bad.  Dolly," — she  turned  to 
her  sister  imploringly — "Dolly,  I  can't  have  a  scan- 
dal now.  You  know  how  Oskar's  people  have  taken 
this,  anyhow;  they've  given  in,  because  he  insisted, 
but  they  don't  want  me,  and  if  there's  a  lot  of  no- 
toriety now  the  emperor  will  send  him  to  Africa  or 
some  place,  and — " 


DOLLY,    HOW   COULD    YOU?        107 

"I  wish  they  would !"  Mrs.  Carter  burst  out  sud- 
denly. "I  hate  the  whole  thing.  They  only  tolerate 
you — us — for  our  money.  You  needn't  look  at  me 
like  that ;  Oskar  may  be  all  right,  but  his  mother  and 
sisters  are  hateful — simply  hateful !" 

"I'll  not  be  with  them." 

"No,  but  they'll  be  with  you."  Mrs.  Dicky  walked 
over  to  the  window  and  looked  out,  dabbing  her 
eyes.  "You've  been  everything  to  me,  Pat,  and  I'm 
so  happy  now — I'd  rather  be  here  on  a  soap  box 
with  Dick  than  on  a  throne  or  a  dais  or  whatever 
you'll  have  to  sit  on  over  there,  with  Oskar.  I  want 
to  be  happy — and  you  won't.  Look  at  Alice  Thorne 
and  her  duke!" 

"If  you  really  want  me  to  be  happy,"  Miss  Patty 
said,  going  over  to  her,  "you'll  go  back  to  school 
until  the  wedding  is  over." 

"I  won't  leave  Dicky."  She  swung  around  and 
gave  Mr.  Dick  an  adoring  glance,  and  Miss  Patty 
looked  discouraged. 

"Take  him  with  you,"  she  said.  "Isn't  there  some 
place  near  where  he  could  stay,  and  telephone  you 
now  and  then  ?" 

"Telephone!"  said  Mrs.  Dick  scornfully. 


io8        WHERE  THERE'S   A   WILL 

"Can't  leave,"  Mr.  Dick  objected.  "Got  to  be  on 
the  property." 

Miss  Patty  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  turned  to 
go.  "You're  both  perfectly  hopeless,"  she  said.  "I'll 
go  and  tell  father,  Dorothy,  but  you  know  what  will 
happen.  You'll  be  back  in  school  at  Greenwich  by 
to-night,  and  your — husband  will  probably  be  under 
arrest."  She  opened  the  door,  but  I  dropped  the 
toast  I  was  making  and  ran  after  her. 

"If  he  is  arrested,"  I  said,  "they'll  have  to  keep 
him  on  the  place.  He  can't  leave." 

She  didn't  say  anything;  she  lifted  her  hand  and 
looked  at  the  ruby  ring,  and  then  she  glanced  back 
into  the  room  where  Mr.  Dick  and  his  wife  were 
whispering  together,  and  turned  up  her  coat  collar. 

"I'm  going,"  she  said,  and  stepped  into  the  snow. 
But  they  called  her  back  in  a  hurry. 

"Look  here,  Miss — Miss  Patricia,"  Mr.  Dick  said, 
"why  can't  we  stay  here,  where  we  are?  It's  very 
comfortable — that  is,  it's  livable.  There's  plenty  of 
fresh  air,  anyhow,  and  everybody's  shouting  for 
fresh  air  nowadays.  They've  got  somebody  to  take 
my  place  in  the  house." 

"And  father  needn't  know  a  thing — you  can  fix 


DOLLY,   HOW  COULD   YOU?       10$ 

that,"  broke  in  Mrs.  Dick.  "And  after  your  wed- 
ding he  will  be  in  a  better  humor;  he'll  know  it's 
over  and  not  up  to  him  any  more." 

Miss  Patty  came  back  to  the  shelter-house  again 
and  sat  down  on  the  soap  box. 

"We  might  carry  it  off,"  she  said.  "If  I  could 
only  go  back  to  town!  But  father  is  in  one  of  his 
tantrums,  and  he  won't  go,  or  let  me  go.  The  idea ! 
—with  Aunt  Honoria  on  the  long-distance  wire 
every  day,  having  hysterics,  and  my  clothes  wait- 
ing to  be  tried  on  and  everything.  I'm  desperate." 

"And  all  sorts  of  things  being  arranged  for  you !" 
put  in  Mrs.  Dick  enviously.  "And  the  family 
jewels  being  reset  in  Vienna  for  you  and  all  that! 
It  would  be  great — if  you  only  didn't  have  to  take 
Oskar  with  the  jewels !" 

Miss  Patty  frowned. 

"You  are  not  going  to  marry  him,"  she  said,  with 
a  glance  at  Mr.  Dick,  who,  with  his  coat  off,  was 
lying  flat  on  the  floor,  one  arm  down  in  the  hole 
where  the  things  had  been  hidden,  trying  to  hook 
up  a  can  of  baked  beans.  "If  it  doesn't  turn  out 
well,  you  and  father  have  certainly  done  your  part 
in  the  way  of  warning.  It's  just  as  Aunt  Honoria 


no        WHERE  THERE'S   A   WILL 

said;  the  family  will  make  a  tremendous  row  be- 
forehand, but  afterward,  when  it  all  turns  out  well, 
they'll  take  the  credit." 

Mr.  Dick  was  busy  with  the  beans  and  I  was 
turning  the  eggs.  Mrs.  Dick  went  over  to  her  sister 
and  put  her  arm  around  her. 

"That's  right,  Patty,"  she  said,  "you're  more  like 
mother  than  I  am.  I'm  a  Jennings  all  over — ex- 
cept that,  heavens  be  praised,  I've  got  the  Sherwood 
liver.  I  guess  I'm  common  plebeian,  like  dad, 
too.  I'm  plebeian  enough,  anyhow,  to  think  there's 
been  a  lot  too  much  about  marriage  settlements  and 
the  consent  of  the  emperor  in  all  this,  and  not 
enough  about  love." 

I  could  have  patted  Mrs.  Dicky  on  the  back  for 
that,  and  I  almost  upset  the  eggs  into  the  fire.  I'm 
an  advocate  of  marrying  for  love  every  time,  al- 
though a  title  and  a  bunch  of  family  jewels  thrown 
in  wouldn't  worry  me. 

"Do  you  want  me  to  protest  that  the  man  who  has 
asked  me  to  marry  him  cares  about  me?"  Miss 
Patty  replied  in  an  angry  undertone.  "Couldn't  he 
have  married  a  thousand  other  girls!  Hadn't  a 


DOLLY,  HOW  COULD  YOU?   nt 

marriage  been  arranged  between  him  and  the 
cousin — " 

"I  know  all  that,"  Mrs.  Dicky  said,  and  her  voice 
sounded  older  than  Miss  Patty's,  and  motherly. 
"But — are  you  in  love  with  him,  Pat?" 

"Certainly,"  Miss  Patty  said  indignantly.  "Don't 
be  silly,  Dolly." 

At  that  instant  Mr.  Dick  found  the  beans,  and  got 
up  shouting  that  we'd  have  a  meal  fit  for  a  prince — 
if  princes  ate  anything  so  every  day  as  baked  beans. 
I  put  the  eggs  on  a  platter  and  poured  the  coffee, 
and  we  all  sat  around  the  soap  box  and  ate.  I 
wished  that  Miss  Cobb  could  have  seen  me  there — 
how  they  insisted  on  my  having  a  second  egg,  and 
was  my  coffee  cold,  and  wasn't  I  too  close  to  the 
fire  ?  It  was  Minnie  here  and  Minnie  there,  and  me 
next  to  Miss  Patty  on  the  floor,  and  she,  as  you  may 
say,  right  next  to  royalty.  I  wished  it  could  have 
been  in  the  spring-house,  with  fathers  crayon  en- 
largement looking  down  on  us. 

Everybody  felt  better  for  the  meal,  and  we  were 
sitting  there  laughing  and  talking  and  very  cheerful 
when  Mr.  Van  Alstyne  opened  the  door  and  looked 


ii2         WHERE   THERE'S   A   WILL 

in.  His  face  was  stern,  but  when  he  saw  us,  with 
Miss  Patty  on  her  knees  toasting  a  piece  of  bread 
and  Mr.  Dicky  passing  the  tin  basin  as  a  finger-bowl, 
he  stopped  scowling  and  looked  amused. 

"They're  here,  Sallie,"  he  called  to  his  wife,  and 
they  both  came  in,  covered  with  snow,  and  we  had 
coffee  and  eggs  all  over  again. 

Well,  they  stayed  for  an  hour,  and  Mr.  Sam 
talked  himself  black  in  the  face  and  couldn't  get 
anywhere.  For  the  Dickys  refused  to  be  separated, 
and  Mrs.  Dick  wouldn't  tell  her  father,  and  Miss 
Patty  wouldn't  do  it  for  her,  and  the  minute  Mr. 
Sam  made  a  suggestion  that  sounded  rational  Mrs. 
Dick  would  cry  and  say  she  didn't  care  to  live,  any- 
how, and  she  wished  she  had  died  of  ptomaine  poi- 
soning the  time  she  ate  the  bad  oyster  at  school. 

So  finally  Mr.  Sam  gave  up  and  said  he  washed 
his  hands  of  the  whole  affair,  and  that  he  was  going 
to  make  another  start  on  his  wedding  journey,  and 
if  they  wanted  to  be  a  pair  of  fools  it  wasn't  up  to 
him — only  for  heaven's  sake  not  to  cry  about  it. 
And  then  he  wiped  Mrs.  Dicky's  eyes  and  kissed  her, 
she  being,  as  he  explained,  his  sister-in-law  now  and 
much  too  pretty  for  him  to  scold. 


DOLLY,   HOW  COULD   YOU?       113 

And  when  the  Dickys  found  they  were  not  going 
to  be  separated  we  had  more  coffee  all  around  and 
everybody  grew  more  cheerful. 

Oh,  we  were  very  cheerful !  I  look  back  now  and 
think  how  cheerful  we  were,  and  I  shudder.  It  was 
strange  that  we  hadn't  been  warned  by  Mr.  Pierce's 
square  jaw,  but  we  were  not.  We  sat  around  the  fire 
and  ate  and  laughed,  and  Mr.  Dick  arranged  that 
Mr.  Pierce  should  come  out  to  him  every  evening 
for  orders  about  the  place — if  he  accepted,  and 
everybody  felt  he  would — and  I  was  to  come  at 
the  same  time  and  bring  a  basket  of  provisions  for 
the  next  day.  Of  course,  the  instant  Mr.  Jennings 
left  the  young  couple  could  go  into  the  sanatorium 
as  guests  under  another  name  and  be  comfortable. 
And  as  soon  as  the  time  limit  was  up,  and  the  place 
was  still  running  smoothly,  they  could  declare  the 
truth,  claim  the  sanatorium,  having  fulfilled  the 
conditions  of  the  will,  and  confess  to  Mr.  Jennings 
— over  the  long-distance  wire. 

Well,  it  promised  well,  I  must  say.  Mr.  Stitt  left 
on  the  ten  train  that  morning,  looking  lemon-colored 
and  mottled.  He  insisted  that  he  wasn't  able  to  go. 


ii4         WHERE   THERE'S    A   WILL 

but  Mr.  Sam  gave  him  a  headache  powder  and  put 
him  on  the  train,  anyhow. 

Yes,  as  I  say,  it  promised  well.  But  we  made  two 
mistakes :  we  didn't  count  on  Mr.  Thoburn,  and  we 
didn't  know  Mr.  Pierce.  And  who  could  have  imag- 
ined that  Mike  the  bath  man  would  do  as  he  did  ? 


CHAPTER  X 

ANOTHER   COMPLICATION 

AFTER  luncheon,  when  everybody  at  Hope 
JL\.  Springs  takes  a  nap,  we  had  another  meeting 
at  the  shelter-house,  this  time  with  Mr.  Pierce.  He 
had  spent  the  morning  tramping  over  the  hills  with 
a  gun  and  keeping  out  of  the  way  of  people,  and 
what  with  three  square  meals,  a  good  night's  sleep 
and  the  exercise,  he  was  looking  a  lot  better.  Seen 
in  daylight,  he  had  very  dark  hair  and  blue-gray  eyes 
and  a  very  square  chin,  although  it  had  a  sort  of 
dimple  in  it.  I  used  to  wonder  which  won  out,  the 
dimple  or  the  chin,  but  I  wasn't  long  in  learning. 

Well,  he  looked  dazed  when  I  took  him  to  the  shel- 
ter-house and  he  saw  Mr.  Dick  and  Mrs.  Dick  and 
the  Mr.  Sams  and  Miss  Patty.  They  gave  him  a 
lawn-mower  to  sit  on,  and  Mr.  Sam  explained  the 
situation. 

"I  know  it's  asking  a  good  bit,  Mr.  Pierce,"  he 


n6        WHERE   THERE'S   A  .WILL 

said,  "and  personally  I  can  see  only  one  way  out  of 
all  this.  Carter  ought  to  go  in  and  take  charge,  and 
his — er — wife  ought  to  go  back  to  school.  But  they 
won't  have  it,  and — er — there  are  other  reasons." 
He  glanced  at  Miss  Patty. 

Mr.  Pierce  also  glanced  at  Miss  Patty.  He'd  been 
glancing  at  her  at  intervals  of  two  seconds  ever  since 
she  came  in,  and  being  a  woman  and  having  a  point 
to  gain,  Miss  Patty  seemed  to  have  forgotten  the 
night  before,  and  was  very  nice  to  him.  Once  she 
smiled  directly  at  him,  and  whatever  he  was  saying 
died  in  his  throat  of  the  shock.  When  she  turned  her 
head  away  he  stared  at  the  back  of  her  neck,  and 
when  she  looked  at  the  fire  he  gazed  at  her  profile, 
and  always  with  that  puzzled  look,  as  if  he  hadn't 
yet  come  to  believe  that  she  was  the  newspaper  Miss 
Jennings. 

After  everything  had  been  explained  to  him,  in- 
cluding Mr.  Jennings'  liver  and  disposition,  she 
turned  to  him  and  said  : 

"We  are  in  your  hands,  you  see,  Mr.  Pierce.  Are 
you  going  to  help  us?"  And  when  she  asked  him 
that,  it  was  plain  to  me  that  he  was  only  sorry  he 
couldn't  die  helping. 


ANOTHER   COMPLICATION         117 

"If  everybody  agrees  to  it,"  he  said,  looking  at 
her,  "and  you  all  think  it's  feasible  and  I  can  carry 
it  off,  I'm  perfectly  willing  to  try." 

"Oh,  it's  feasible,"  Mr.  Dick  said  in  a  relieved 
voice,  getting  up  and  beginning  to  strut  up  and  down 
the  room.  "It  isn't  as  though  I'm  beyond  call.  You 
can  come  out  here  and  consult  me  if  you  get  stuck. 
And  then  there's  Minnie ;  she  knows  a  good  bit  about 
the  old  place." 

Mr.  Sam  looked  at  me  and  winked. 

"Of  course,"  said  Mr.  Dick,  "I  expect  to  retain 
control,  you  understand  that,  I  suppose,  Pierce  ?  You 
can  come  out  every  day  for  instructions.  I  dare  say 
sanatoriums  are  hardly  your  line." 

Mr.  Pierce  was  looking  at  Miss  Patty  and  she 
knew  it.  When  a  woman  looks  as  unconscious  as 
she  did  it  isn't  natural. 

"Eh — oh,  well  no,  hardly,"  he  said,  coming  to 
himself;  "I've  tried  everything  else,  I  believe.  It 
can't  be  worse  than  carrying  a  bunch  of  sweet  peas 
from  garden  to  garden." 

Mr.  Dick  stopped  walking  and  turned  suddenly  to 
stare  at  Mr.  Pierce. 

"Sweet — what?"  he  said. 


n8        WHERE   THERE'S   A   WILL 

Everybody  else  was  talking,  and  I  was  the  only 
one  who  saw  him  change  color. 

"Sweet  peas,"  said  Mr.  Pierce.  "And  that  re- 
minds me — I'd  like  to  make  one  condition,  Mr.  Car- 
ter. I  feel  in  a  measure  responsible  for  the  com- 
pany ;  most  of  them  have  gone  back  to  New  York, 
but  the  leading  woman  is  sick  at  the  hotel  in  Finley- 
ville.  I'd  like  to  bring  her  here  for  two  weeks  to  re- 
cuperate. I  assure  you,  I  have  no  interest  in  her,  but 
I'm  sorry  for  her;  she's  had  the  mumps." 

"Mumps !"  everybody  said  together,  and  Mr.  Sam 
looked  at  his  brother-in-law. 

"Kid  in  the  play  got  'em,  and  they  spread  around," 
Mr.  Pierce  explained.  "Nasty  disease." 

"Why,  you've  just  had  them,  too,  Dicky !"  said  his 
wife.  They  all  turned  to  look  at  him,  and  I  must  say 
his  expression  was  curious.  Luckily,  I  had  the  wit 
to  knock  over  the  breakfast  basket,  which  was  still 
there,  and  when  we'd  gathered  up  the  broken  china, 
Mr.  Dick  had  got  himself  in  hand. 

"I'm  sorry,  old  man,"  he  said  to  Mr.  Pierce,  "but 
I'm  not  in  favor  of  bringing  Miss — the  person  you 
speak  of — up  to  the  sanatorium  just  now.  Mumps, 
you  know — very  contagious,  and  all  that." 


ANOTHER   COMPLICATION         119 

"She's  over  that  part,"  Mr.  Pierce  said ;  "she  only 
needs  to  rest." 

"Certainly — let  her  come,"  said  Mrs.  Dicky.  "If 
they're  as  contagious  as  all  that,  you  haven't  been 
afraid  of  my  getting  them." 

"I — I'm  not  in  favor  of  it,"  Mr.  Dick  insisted, 
looking  obstinate.  "The  minute  you  bring  an  actress 
here  you've  got  the  whole  place  by  the  ears." 

"Fiddlesticks!"  said  his  sister.  "Because  any  ac- 
tress could  set  you  by  the  ears — " 

Mrs.  Dick  sat  up  suddenly. 

"Certainly,  if  she  isn't  well  bring  her  up,"  said 
Miss  Patty.  "Only — won't  she  know  your  name  is 
not  Carter?" 

"She's  discretion  itself,"  Mr.  Pierce  said.  "Her 
salary  hasn't  been  paid  for  a  month,  and  as  I'm  re- 
sponsible, I'd  be  glad  to  see  her  looked  after." 

"I  don't  want  her  here.  I'll — I'll  pay  her  board 
at  the  hotel,"  Mr.  Dick  began,  "only  for  heaven's 
sake,  don't — " 

He  stopped,  for  every  one  was  staring. 

"Why  in  the  world  would  you  do  that?"  Miss 
Patty  asked.  "Don't  be  ridiculous.  That's  the  only 
condition  Mr.  Pierce  has  made." 


Mr.  Dick  stalked  to  the  window  and  looked  out, 
his  hands  in  his  pockets.  I  couldn't  help  being  re- 
minded of  the  time  he  had  run  away  from  school, 
when  his  grandfather  found  him  in  the  shelter-house 
and  gave  him  his  choice  of  going  back  at  once  or 
reading  medicine  with  him. 

"Oh,  bring  her  up!  Bring  her  up!"  he  said  with- 
out looking  around.  "If  Pierce  won't  stay  unless  he 
can  play  the  friend  in  need,  all  right.  But  don't 
come  after  me  if  the  whole  blamed  sanatorium  swells 
up  with  mumps  and  faints  at  the  sight  of  a  pickle." 

That  was  Wednesday. 

Things  at  the  sanatorium  were  about  the  same  on 
the  surface.  The  women  crocheted  and  wondered 
what  the  next  house  doctor  would  be  like,  and  the 
men  gambled  at  the  slot-machines  and  played  bil- 
liards and  grumbled  at  the  food  and  the  manage- 
ment, and  when  they  weren't  drinking  spring  water 
they  were  in  the  bar  washing  away  the  taste  of  it 
They  took  twenty  minutes  on  the  verandas  every 
day  for  exercise  and  kept  the  house  temperature  at 
eighty.  Senator  Biggs  was  still  fasting  and  Mrs. 
Biggs  took  to  spending  all  day  in  the  spring-house 
and  turning  pale  every  time  she  heard  his  voice.  It 


ANOTHER   COMPLICATION         121 

was  that  day,  I  think,  that  I  found  the  magazine 
with  Upton  Sinclair's  article  on  fasting  stuck  fast 
in  a  snow-drift,  as  if  it  had  been  thrown  violently. 

Wednesday  afternoon  Miss  Julia  Summers  came 
with  three  lap  robes,  a  white  lace  veil  and  a  French 
poodle  in  a  sleigh  and  went  to  bed  in  one  of  the 
best  rooms,  and  that  night  we  started  to  move  out 
furniture  to  the  shelter-house. 

By  working  almost  all  night  we  got  the  shelter- 
house  fairly  furnished,  although  we  made  a  trail 
through  the  snow  that  looked  like  a  fever  chart. 
Toward  daylight  Mr.  Sam  dropped  a  wash-bowl  on 

% 

my  toe  and  I  went  to  bed  with  an  arnica  compress. 

I  limped  out  in  time  to  be  on  hand  before  Miss 
Cobb  got  there,  but  what  with  a  chilblain  on  my 
heel  and  hardly  any  sleep  for  two  nights — not  to 
mention  my  toe — I  wasn't  any  too  pleasant. 

"It's  my  opinion  you're  overeating,  Minnie," 
Miss  Cobb  said.  "You're  skin's  a  sight !" 

"You  needn't  look  at  it,"  I  retorted. 

She  burned  the  back  of  her  neck  just  then  and  it 
was  three  minutes  before  she  could  speak.  When 
she  could  she  was  considerably  milder. 

"Just  givf  it  a  twist  or  two,  Minnie,  won't  you?" 


122         WHERE   THERE'S   A   WILL 

she  said,  holding  out  the  curler.  "I  haven't  been 
able  to  sleep  on  the  back  of  my  head  for  three 
weeks." 

Well,  I  curled  her  hair  for  her  and  she  told  me 
about  Miss  Summers  being  still  shut  in  her  room, 
and  how  she'd  offered  Mike  an  extra  dollar  to  give 
the  white  poodle  a  Turkish  bath — it  being  under  the 
\veather  as  to  health — and  how  Mike  had  soaked 
the  little  beast  for  an  hour  in  a  tub  of  water,  for- 
getting the  sulphur,  and  it  had  come  out  a  sort  of 
mustard  color,  and  how  Miss  Summers  had  had 
hysterics  when  she  saw  it. 

"Mike  dipped  him  in  bluing  to  bleach  him  again, 
or  rather  'her' — it's  name  is  Arabella — "  Miss  Cobb 
said,  "but  all  it  did  was  to  make  it  mottled  like  an 
Easter  egg.  Everybody  is  charmed.  There  were 
no  dogs  allowed  while  the  old  doctor  lived.  Things 
were  different." 

"Yes,  things  were  different,"  I  assented,  limping 
over  to  heat  the  curler.  "How — how  does  Mr.  Car- 
ter get  along?" 

Miss  Cobb  put  down  her  hand-mirror  and  sniffed. 

"Well,"  she  said,  "goodness  knows  I'm  no  trouble 
maker,  but  somebody  ought  to  tell  that  young  man 


ANOTHER   COMPLICATION         123 

a  few  things.  He's  forever  looking  at  the  ther- 
mometer and  opening  windows.  I  declare,  if  I 
hadn't  brought  my  woolen  tights  along  I'd  have 
frozen  to  death  at  breakfast.  Everybody's  com- 
plaining." 

I  put  that  away  in  my  mind  to  speak  about.  It 
was  only  by  nailing  the  windows  shut  and  putting 
strips  of  cotton  batting  around  the  cracks  that  we'd 
ever  been  able  to  keep  people  there  in  the  winter.  I 
had  my  first  misgiving  then.  Heaven  knows  I 
didn't  realize  what  it  was  going  to  be. 

Well,  by  the  evening  of  that  day  things  were  go- 
ing fairly  well.  Tillie  brought  out  a  basket  every 
morning  to  me  at  the  spring-house,  fairly  bursting 
with  curiosity,  and  Mr.  Sam  got  some  canned  stuff 
in  Finleyville  and  took  it  after  dark  to  the  shelter- 
house.  But  after  the  second  day  Mrs.  Dicky  got 
tired  holding  a  frying-pan  over  the  fire  and  I  had 
to  carry  out  at  least  one  hot  meal  a  day. 

They  got  their  own  breakfast  in  a  chafing-dish, 
or  rather  he  got  it  and  carried  it  to  her.  And  she'd 
sit  on  the  edge  of  her  cot,  with  her  feet  on  the  soap 
box — the  floor  was  drafty — wrapped  in  a  pink 
satin  negligee  with  bands  of  brown  fur  on  it,  look- 


i24         WHERE   THERE'S    A    WILL 

ing  sweet  and  perfectly  happy,  and  let  him  feed  her 
boiled  egg  with  a  spoon.  I  took  them  some  books — 
my  Gray's  Anatomy,  and  Jane  Eyre  and  Molly 
Bawn,  by  The  Duchess,  and  the  newspapers,  of 
course.  They  were  full  of  talk  about  the  wedding, 
and  the  suite  the  prince  was  bringing  over  with  him, 
and  every  now  and  then  a  notice  would  say  that  Miss 
Dorothy  Jennings,  the  bride's  young  sister,  who  was 
still  in  school  and  was  not  coming  out  until  next 
year,  would  be  her  sister's  maid  of  honor.  And 
when  they  came  to  that,  they  would  hug  each  other 
— or  me,  if  I  happened  to  be  close — and  act  like  a 
pair  of  children,  which  they  were.  Generally  it 
would  end  up  by  his  asking  her  if  she  wasn't  sorry 
she  wasn't  back  at  Greenwich  studying  French  con- 
jugations and  having  a  dance  without  any  men  on 
Friday  nights,  and  she  would  say  "Wretch !"  and 
kiss  him,  and  I'd  go  out  and  slam  the  door. 

But  there  was  something  on  Mr.  Dick's  mind.  I 
hadn't  known  him  for  fourteen  years  for  nothing. 
And  the  night  Mr.  Sam  and  I  carried  out  the  canned 
salmon  and  corn  and  tomatoes  he  walked  back  with 
me  to  the  edge  of  the  deer  park,  Mr.  Sam  having 
gone  ahead. 


ANOTHER    COMPLICATION         125 

"Now,"  I  said,  when  we  were  out  of  ear-shot, 
"spit  it  out.  I've  been  expecting  it." 

"Listen,  Minnie,"  he  answered,  "is  Ju — is  Miss 
Summers  still  confined  to  her  room?" 

"No,"  I  replied  coldly.  "Ju — Miss  Summers 
was  down  to-night  to  dinner." 

"Then  she's  seen  Pierce,"  he  said,  "and  he's  told 
her  the  whole  story  and  by  to-morrow — " 

"What?"  I  demanded,  clutching  his  arm.  "You 
wretched  boy,  don't  tell  me  after  all  I've  done — 

"Oh,  confound  it,  Minnie,"  he  exclaimed,  "it's  as 
much  your  fault  as  mine.  Couldn't  you  have  found 
somebody  else,  instead  of  getting,  of  all  things  on 
earth,  somebody  from  the  Sweet  Peas  Company?" 

"I  see,"  I  said  slowly.  "Then  it  wasn't  coinci- 
dence about  the  mumps !" 

"Confounded  kid  had  them,"  he  said  with  bitter- 
ness. "Minnie,  something's  got  to  be  done,  and 
done  soon.  If  you  want  the  plain  truth,  Miss — er 
— Summers  and  I  used  to  be  friends — and — well, 
she's  suing  me  for  breach  of  promise.  Now  for 
heaven's  sake,  Minnie,  don't  make  a  fuss — " 

But  my  knees  wouldn't  hold  me.  I  dropped  down 
in  a  snow-drift  and  covered  my  face. 


CHAPTER  XI 
MISS  PATTY'S  PRINCE 

I  DRAGGED  myself  back  to  the  spring-house 
and  dropped  in  front  of  the  fire.  What  with 
worry  and  no  sleep  and  now  this  new  complication 
I  was  dead  as  yesterday's  newspaper.  I  sat  there 
on  the  floor  with  my  hands  around  my  knees,  think- 
ing what  to  do  next,  and  as  I  sat  there,  the  crayon 
enlargement  of  father  on  the  spring-house  wall  be- 
gan to  shake  its  head  from  side  to  side,  and  then  I 
saw  it  hold  out  its  hand  and  point  a  finger  at  me. 

"Cut  and  run,  Minnie,"  it  said.  "Get  out  from 
under!  Go  and  buy  Timmon's  candy  store  before 
the  smash — the  smash — !" 

When  I  opened  my  eyes  Mr.  Pierce  was  sitting 
on  the  other  side  of  the  chimney  and  staring  at  the 
fire.  He  had  a  pipe  between  his  teeth,  but  he  wasn't 
smoking,  and  he  had  something  of  the  same  look 
about  his  mouth  he'd  had  the  first  day  I  saw  him. 

126 


MISS   PATTY'S   PRINCE  127 

"Well  ?"  he  said,  when  he  saw  I  was  awake. 

"I  guess  I  was  sleeping."  I  sat  up  and  pushed 
in  my  hairpins  and  yawned.  I  was  tireder  than 
ever.  "I'm  clean  worn  out." 

"Of  course  you're  tired,"  he  declared  angrily. 
"You're  not  a  horse,  and. you  haven't  been  to  bed  for 
two  nights." 

"Care  killed  the  cat,"  I  said.  "I  don't  mind  los- 
ing sleep,  but  it's  like  walking  in  a  swamp,  Mr. 
Pierce.  First  I  put  a  toe  in — that  was  when  I  asked 
you  to  stay  over  night.  Then  I  went  a  step  farther, 
lured  on,  as  you  may  say,  by  Miss  Patty  waving  a 
crown  or  whatever  it  is  she  wants,  just  beyond  my 
nose.  And  to-night  I've  got  a — well,  to-night  I'm 
in  to  the  neck  and  yelling  for  a  quick  death." 

He  leaned  over  to  where  I  sat  before  the  fire  and 
twisted  my  head  toward  him. 

"To-night — what?"  he  demanded. 

But  that  minute  I  made  up  my  mind  not  to  tell 
him.  He  might  think  the  situation  was  too  much 
for  him  and  leave,  or  he  might  decide  he  ought  to 
tell  Miss  Summers  where  Dick  was.  There  was  no 
love  lost  between  him  and  Mr.  Carter. 


"To-night — I'm  just  tired  and  cranky,"  I  said, 
"so — is  Miss  Summers  settled  yet  ?" 

He  nodded,  as  if  he  wasn't  thinking  of  Miss 
Summers. 

"What  did  you  tell  her?" 

"Haven't  seen  her,"  he  said.  "Sent  her  a  note 
that  I  was  understudying  a  man  named  Carter  and 
to  mind  to  pick  up  her  cues." 

"It's  a  common  enough  name,"  I  said,  but  he  had 
lighted  his  pipe  again  and  had  dropped  forward,  one 
elbow  on  his  knee,  his  hand  holding  the  bowl  of  his 
pipe,  and  staring  into  the  fire.  He  looked  up  when 
I  closed  and  locked  the  pantry  door. 

"I've  just  been  thinking,"  he  remarked,  "here  we 
are — a  group  of  people — all  struggling  like  mad  for 
one  thing,  but  with  different  motives.  Mine  are 
plain  enough  and  mercenary  enough,  although  a 
certain  red-haired  girl  with  a  fine  loyalty  to  an  old 
doctor  and  a  sanatorium  is  carrying  me  along  with 
her  enthusiasm.  And  Van  Alstyne's  motives  are 
clear  enough — and  selfish.  Carter  is  merely  trying 
to  save  his  own  skin — but  a  girl  like  Miss  Pat — 
Miss  Jennings !" 

"There's  nothing  uncertain  about  what  she  wants, 


MISS    PATTY'S    PRINCE  129 

or  wrong  either,"  I  retorted.  "She's  right  enough. 
The  family  can't  stand  a  scandal  just  now  with  her 
wedding  so  close." 

He  smiled  and  got  up,  emptying  his  pipe. 

"Nevertheless,  oh,  Minnie,  of  the  glowing  hair 
and  heart,"  he  said,  "Miss  Jennings  has  disappointed 
me.  You  see,  I  believe  in  marrying  for  love." 

"Love!"  I  was  disgusted.  "Don't  talk  to  me 
about,  love!  Love  is  the  sort  of  thing  that  makes 
two  silly  idiots  run  away  and  get  married  and  live 
in  a  shelter-house,  upsetting  everybody's  plans,  while 
their  betters  have  to  worry  themselves  sick  and 
carry  them  victuals." 

He  got  up  and  began  to  walk  up  and  down  the 
spring-house,  scowling  at  the  floor. 

"Of  course,"  he  agreed,  "he  may  be  a  decent  sort, 
and  she  may  really  want  him." 

"Of  course  she  does !"  I  said.  He  stopped  short, 
"I've  been  wanting  a  set  of  red  puffs  for  three  years, 
and  I  can  hardly  walk  past  Mrs.  Yost's  window 
down  in  the  village.  They've  got  some  that  match 
my  hair  and  I  fairly  yearn  for  them.  But  if  I  got 
'em  I  dare  say  I'd  put  them  in  a  box  and  go  after 
wanting  something  else.  It's  the  same  way  with 


130         WHERE   THERE'S    A    WILL 

Miss  Patty.  She'll  get  her  prince,  and  because  it 
isn't  real  love,  but  only  the  same  as  me  with  the 
.puffs,  she'll  go  after  wanting  something  else.  Only 
'she  can't  put  him  away  in  a  box.  She'll  have  to  put 
him  on  and  wear  him  for  better,  for  worse." 

"Lord  help  her !"  he  said  solemnly,  and  went  over 
to  the  window  and  stood  there  looking  out. 

I  went  over  beside  him.  From  the  window  we 
could  see  the  three  rows  of  yellow  lights  that  marked 
the  house,  and  somebody  with  a  lantern  was  going 
down  the  path  toward  the  stables.  Mr.  Pierce 
leaned  forward,  his  hands  at  the  top  of  the  window- 
sash,  and  put  his  forehead  against  the  glass. 

"Why  is  it  that  a  lighted  window  in  a  snow-storm 
always  makes  a  fellow  homesick?"  he  said  in  his 
half -mocking  way.  "If  he  hasn't  got  a  home  it 
makes  him  want  one." 

"Well,  why  don't  you  get  one?"  I  asked. 

"On  nothing  a  year?"  he  said.  "Not  even  pros- 
pects! And  set  up  housekeeping  in  the  shelter- 
house  with  my  good  friend  Minnie  carrying  us  food 
and  wearing  herself  to  a  shadow,  not  to  mention 
bringing  trashy  books  to  my  bride — 

"She  isn't  that  kind,"  I  broke  in,  and  got  red.    I'd 


MISS    PATTY'S    PRINCE  131 

been  thinking  of  Miss  Patty.  But  he  went  over  to 
the  table  and  picked  up  his  glass  of  spring  water, 
only  to  set  it  down  untasted. 

"No,  she's  not  that  kind!"  he  agreed,  and  never 
noticed  the  slip.  "You  know,  Minnie,  women  aren't 
all  alike,  but  they're  not  all  different.  An  English 
writer  has  them  classified  to  a  T — there's  the  mother 
woman — that's  you.  You're  always  mothering 
somebody  with  that  maternal  spirit  of  yours.  It's  a 
pity  it's  vicarious." 

I  didn't  say  anything,  not  knowing  just  what  he 
meant.  But  I've  looked  it  up  since  and  I  guess  he 
was  about  right. 

"And  there's  the  mistress  woman — Mrs.  Dicky, 
for  example,  or — "  he  saw  Miss  Cobb's  curler  on  the 
mantel  and  picked  it  up — "or  even  Miss  Cobb,"  he 
said.  "Coquetry  and  selfishness  without  maternal 
instinct.  How  much  of  Miss  Cobb's  virtue  is  train- 
ing and  environment,  Minnie,  not  to  mention  lack  of 
temptation,  and  how  much  was  born  in  her?" 

"She's  a  preacher's  daughter,"  I  remarked.  I 
could  understand  about  Mrs.  Dicky,  but  I  thought 
he  was  wrong  about  Miss  Cobb. 

"Exactly,"   he    said.     "And   the   third    kind   of 


132         WHERE   THERE'S    A    WILL 

woman  is  the  mistress-mother  kind,  and  they're  the 
salt  of  the  earth,  Minnie."  He  began  to  walk  up 
and  down  by  the  spring  with  his  hands  in  his  pock- 
ets and  a  far-away  look  in  his  eyes.  "The  man  who 
marries  that  kind  of  woman  is  headed  straight  for 
paradise." 

"That's  the  way!"  I  snapped.  "You  men  have 
women  divided  into  classes  and  catalogued  like 
horses  on  sale." 

"Aren't  they  on  sale?"  he  demanded,  stopping. 
"Isn't  it  money,  or  liberty,  or — or  a  title,  usually  ?" 
I  knew  he  was  thinking  of  Miss  Patty  again. 

"As  for  the  men,"  I  continued,  "I  guess  you  can 
class  the  married  ones  in  two  classes,  providers  and 
non-providers.  They're  all  selfish  and  they  haven't 
enough  virtue  to  make  a  fuss  about." 

"I'd  be  a  shining  light  in  the  non-provider  class," 
he  said,  and  picking  up  his  old  cap  he  opened  the 
door.  Miss  Patty  herself  was  coming  up  the  path. 

She  was  flushed  from  the  cold  air  and  from  hur- 
rying, and  I  don't  know  that  I  ever  saw  her  look 
prettier.  When  she  came  into  the  light  we  could 
both  see  that  she  was  dressed  for  dinner.  Her  fur 
coat  was  open  at  the  neck,  and  she  had  only  a  lace 


MISS    PATTY'S    PRINCE  133 

scarf  over  her  head.  (She  was  a  disbeliever  in 
colds,  anyhow,  and  all  winter  long  she  slept  with  the 
windows  open  and  the  steam-heat  off ! ) 

"I'm  so  glad  you're  still  here,  Minnie!"  she  ex- 
claimed, breathing  fast.  "You  haven't  taken  the 
dinner  out  to  the  shelter-house  yet,  have  you  ?" 

"Not  yet,"  I  replied.  "Tillie  hasn't  brought  the 
basket.  The  chef's  been  fussing  about  the  stuff 
we're  using  in  the  diet  kitchen  the  last  few  days, 
and  I  wouldn't  be  surprised  if  he's  shut  off  all 
extras." 

But  I  guess  her  sister  and  Mr.  Dick  could  have 
starved  to  death  just  then  without  her  noticing.  She 
was  all  excitement,  for  all  she's  mostly  so  cool. 

"I  have  a  note  here  for  my  sister,"  she  said,  get- 
ting it  out  of  her  pocket.  "I  know  we  all  impose 
on  you,  Minnie,  but — will  you  take  it  for  me?  I'd 
go,  but  I'm  in  slippers,  and,  anyhow,  I'd  need  a 
lantern,  and  that  would  be  reckless,  wouldn't  it  ?" 

"In  slippers !"  Mr.  Pierce  interrupted.  "It's  only 
five  degrees  above  zero!  Of  all  the  foolhardy — !" 

Miss  Patty  did  not  seem  to  hear  him.  She  gave 
the  letter  to  me  and  followed  me  out  on  the  step. 

"You're  a  saint,  Minnie,"  she  said,  leaning  over 


134         WHERE   THERE'S    A    WILL 

and  squeezing  my  arm,  "and  because  you're  going 
back  and  forth  in  the  cold  so  much,  I  want  you  to 
have  this — to  keep." 

She  stooped  and  picked  up  from  the  snow  beside 
the  steps  something  soft  and  furry  and  threw  it 
around  my  neck,  and  the  next  instant  I  knew  she 
was  giving  me  her  chinchilla  set,  muff  and  all.  I 
was  so  pleased  I  cried,  and  all  the  way  over  to  the 
shelter-house  I  sniveled  and  danced  with  joy  at  the 
same  time.  There's  nothing  like  chinchilla  to  tone 
down  red  hair. 

Well,  I  took  the  note  out  to  the  shelter-house,  and 
rapped.  Mr.  Dick  let  me  in,  and  it  struck  me  he 
wasn't  as  cheerful  as  usual.  He  reached  out  and 
took  the  muff. 

"Oh,"  he  said,  "I  thought  that  was  the  supper." 

"It's  coming,"  I  said,  looking  past  him  for  Mrs. 
Dicky.  Usually  when  I  went  there  she  was  drawing 
Mr.  Dick's  profile  on  a  bit  of  paper  or  teaching  him 
how  to  manicure  his  nails,  but  that  night  she  was 
lying  on  the  cot  and  she  didn't  look  up. 

"Sleeping?"  I  asked  in  a  whisper. 

"Crumping !"  Mr.  Dick  answered.  He  went  over 
and  stood  looking  down  at  her  with  his  hands  in 


MISS    PATTY'S    PRINCE  135 

his  pockets  and  his  hair  ruffled  as  if  he'd  been  run- 
ning his  fingers  through  it.     She  never  moved  a 

shoulder. 

"Dorothy,"  he  said.     "Here's  Minnie." 

She  pretended  not  to  hear. 

"Dorothy!"  he  repeated.  "I  wish  you  wouldn't 
be  such  a  g —  Confound  it,  Dolly,  be  reasonable. 
Do  you  want  to  make  me  look  like  a  fool  ?" 

She  turned  her  face  enough  to  uncover  one  eye. 

"It  wouldn't  be  difficult,"  she  answered,  staring  at 
him  with  the  one  eye.  It  was  red  from  crying. 

"Now  listen,  Dolly."  He  got  down  on  one  knee 
beside  the  cot  and  tried  to  take  her  hand,  but  she 
jerked  it  away.  "I've  tried  wearing  my  hair  that 
way,  and  it — it  isn't  becoming,  to  say  the  least.  I 
don't  mind  having  it  wet  and  brushed  back  in  a 
pompadour,  if  you  insist,  but  I  certainly  do  balk  at 
the  ribbon." 

"You've  only  got  to  wear  the  ribbon  an  hour  or 
so.  until  it  dries."  She  brought  her  hand  forward 
an  inch  or  so  and  he  took  it  and  kissed  it.  It  should 
have  been  slapped. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do,"  he  said.  "You  can 
fix  it  any  way  you  please,  when  it's  too  late  for  old 


1 36         WHERE   THERE'S    A    WILL 

Sam  or  Pierce  to  drop  in,  and  I'll  wear  the  con- 
founded ribbon  all  night.  Won't  that  do?" 

But  she  had  seen  the  note  and  sat  up  and  held  out 
her  hand  for  it.  She  was  wearing  one  of  Miss 
Patty's  dresses  and  it  hung  on  her — not  that  Miss 
Patty  was  large,  but  she  had  a  beautiful  figure,  and 
Mrs.  Dicky,  of  course,  was  still  growing  and  not 
properly  filled  out. 

"Dick!"  she  said  suddenly,  "what  do  you  think? 
Oskar  is  here!  Pat's  in  the  wildest  excitement. 
He's  in  town,  and  Aunt  Honoria  has  telephoned  to 
know  what  to  do!  Listen:  he  is  incog.,  of  course, 
and  registered  as  Oskar  von  Inwald.  He  did  an 
awfully  clever  thing — came  in  through  Canada 
while  the  papers  thought  he  was  in  St.  Moritz." 

"For  heaven's  sake,"  replied  Mr.  Dick,  ''tell  her 
not  to  ask  him  here.  I  shouldn't  know  how  to  talk 
to  him." 

"He  speaks  lovely  English,"  declared  Mrs.  Dick, 
still  reading. 

"I  know  all  that,"  he  said,  walking  around  nerv- 
ously, "but  if  he's  going  to  be  my  brother-in-law, 
I  suppose  I  don't  get  down  on  my  knees  and  knock 
my  head  on  the  floor.  What  do  I  say  to  him? 


MISS   PATTY'S    PRINCE  137 

Your  Highness?  Oh,  I've  known  a  lord  or  two,  but 
that's  different.  You  call  them  anything  you  like 
and  lend  them  money." 

"I  dare  say  you  can  with  Oskar,  too."  Mrs.  Dicky 
put  the  note  down  and  sighed.  "Well,  he's  coming. 
Pat  says  dad  won't  go  back  to  town  until  he's  had 
twenty-one  baths,  and  he's  only  had  eleven  and  she's 
got  to  stay  with  him.  And  you  needn't  worry  about 
what  to  call  Oskar.  He's  not  to  know  we're  here." 

I  was  worried  on  my  way  back  to  the  spring- 
house — not  that  the  prince  would  make  much  dif- 
ference, as  far  as  I  could  see  things  being  about  as 
bad  as  they  could  be.  But  some  of  the  people  were 
talking  of  leaving,  and  since  we  had  to  have  a  prince 
it  seemed  a  pity  he  wasn't  coming  with  all  his  retinue 
and  titles.  It  would  have  been  a  good  ten  thousand 
dollars'  worth  of  advertising  for  the  place,  and 
goodness  knows  we  needed  it. 

When  I  got  back  to  the  spj  mg-liouse  Miss  Patty 
and  Mr.  Pierce  were  still  there.  He  was  in  front  of 
the  fire,  with  his  back  to  it,  and  she  was  near  the 
door. 

"Of  course  it  isn't  my  affair,"  he  was  saying. 
"You  are  perfectly—  Then  I  opened  the  door  and 


138        WHERE   THERE'S   A   WILL 

he  stopped.  I  went  on  into  the  pantry  to  take  off 
my  overshoes,  and  as  I  closed  the  door  he  continued. 
"I  didn't  mean  to  say  what  I  have.  I  meant  to  ex- 
plain about  the  other  night — I  had  a  right  to  do  that. 
But  you  forced  the  issue." 

"I  was  compelled  to  tell  you  he  was  coming,"  she 
said  angrily.  "I  felt  I  should.  You  have  been 
good  enough  to  take  Mr.  Carter's  place  here  and 
save  me  from  an  embarrassing  situation — " 

"I  had  no  philanthropic  motives,"  he  insisted  stub- 
bornly. "I  did  it,  as  you  must  know,  for  three 
meals  a  day  and  a  roof  over  my  head.  If  you  wish 
me  to  be  entirely  frank,  I  disapprove  of  the  whole 
thing." 

I  heard  the  swish  of  her  dress  as  she  left  the  door 
and  went  toward  him. 

"What  would  you  have  had  me  do?"  she  asked. 

"Take  those  two  children  to  your  father.  What 
if  there  was  a  row?  Why  should  there  be  such  a 
lot  made  of  it,  anyhow?  They're  young,  but  they'll 
get  older.  It  isn't  a  crime  for  two  people  to — er — 
love  each  other,  is  it?  And  if  you  think  a  scandal 
or  two  in  your  family — granting  your  father  would 


MISS    PATTY'S    PRINCE  139 

make  a  scandal — is  going  to  put  another  patch  on 
the  ragged  reputations  of  the  royal  family  of — " 

"How  dare  you!"  she  cried  furiously.  "How 
dare  you !" 

I  heard  her  cross  the  room  and  fling  the  door 
open  and  a  second  later  it  slammed.  When  I  came 
out  of  the  pantry  Mr.  Pierce  was  sitting  in  his  old 
position,  elbow  on  knee,  holding  his  pipe  and  staring 
at  the  bowl. 


CHAPTER   XII 

WE   GET   A  DOCTOR 

I  HAD  my  hands  full  the  next  day.  We'd  had 
another  snow-storm  during  the  night  and  the 
trains  were  blocked  again.  About  ten  o'clock  we 
got  a  telegram  from  the  new  doctor  we'd  been 
expecting,  that  he'd  fallen  on  the  ice  on  his  way  to 
the  train  and  broken  his  arm,  and  at  eleven  a  dele- 
gation from  the  guests  waited  on  Mr.  Pierce  and 
told  him  they'd  have  to  have  a  house  physician  at 
once. 

Senator  Biggs  was  the  spokesman.  He  said  that, 
personally,  he  couldn't  remain  another  day  without 
one ;  that  he  should  be  under  a  physician's  care  every 
moment  of  his  fast,  and  that  if  no  doctor  came  that 
day  he'd  be  in  favor  of  all  the  guests  showing  their 
displeasure  by  leaving  together. 

"Either  that,"  Thoburn  said  from  the  edge  of  the 
crowd,  "or  call  it  a  hotel  at  once  and  be  done  with  it. 

140 


WE   GET   A   DOCTOR  141 

A  sanatorium  without  a  doctor  is  like  an  omelet 
without  eggs !" 

"Hamlet  without  ham,"  somebody  said. 

"We're  doing  the  best  we  can,"  Mr.  Pierce  ex- 
plained. "We — we  expect  a  doctor  to-day." 

"When  ?"  from  Mr.  Jennings,  who  had  come  on  a 
c.ine  and  was  watching  Mr.  Pierce  like  a  hawk. 

"This  afternoon,  probably.  As  there  is  no  one 
here  very  ill — " 

But  at  that  they  almost  fell  on  him  and  tore  him 
to  pieces.  I  had  to  step  in  front  of  him  myself  and 
say  we'd  have  somebody  there  by  two  o'clock  if  we 
had  to  rob  a  hospital  to  get  him.  And  Mr.  Sam 
cried,  "Three  cheers  for  Minnie,  the  beautiful  spring- 
house  girl !"  and  led  off. 

There's  no  doubt  about  it — a  man  ought  to  be 
born  to  the  sanatorium  business.  A  real  strong  and 
healthy  man  has  no  business  trying  to  run  a  health 
resort,  and  I  saw  Mr.  Pierce  wasn't  making  the  hit 
that  I'd  expected  him  to. 

He  was  too  healthy.  You  only  needed  to  look  at 
him  to  know  that  he  took  a  cold  plunge  every  morn- 
ing, and  liked  to  walk  ten  miles  a  day,  and  could  di- 
gest anything  and  go  to  sleep  the  minute  his  head 


142         WHERE   THERE'S    A    WILL 

touched  the  pillow.  And  he  had  no  tact  When 
Mrs.  Biggs  went  to  him  and  explained  that  the 
vacuum  cleaner  must  not  be  used  in  her  room — that 
it  exhausted  the  air  or  something,  and  she  could 
hardly  breathe  after  it — he  only  looked  bewildered 
and  then  drew  a  diagram  to  show  her  it  was  impos- 
sible that  it  could  exhaust  the  air.  The  old  doctor 
knew  how:  he'd  have  ordered  an  oxygen  tank 
opened  in  the  room  after  the  cleaner  was  used  and 
she'd  have  gone  away  happy. 

Of  course  Mr.  Pierce  was  most  polite.  He'd 
listen  to  their  complaints — and  they  were  always 
complaining,  that's  part  of  the  regime — with  a  puz- 
zled face,  trying  to  understand,  but  he  couldn't.  He 
hadn't  a  nerve  in  his  body.  Once,  when  one  of  the 
dining-room  girls  dropped  a  tray  of  dishes  and  half 
the  women  went  to  bed  with  headache  from  the 
nervous  shock,  he  never  even  looked  up,  but  went  on 
with  his  dinner,  and  the  only  comment  he  made 
afterward  was  to  tell  the  head  waitress  to  see  that 
Annie  didn't  have  to  pay  breakage — that  the  trays 
were  too  heavy  for  a  woman,  anyhow.  As  Miss 
Cobb  said,  he  was  impossible. 

Well,  as  if  I  didn't  have  my  hands  full  with  get- 


WE   GET   A   DOCTOR  143 

ting  meals  to  the  shelter-house,  and  trying  to  find  a 
house  doctor,  and  wondering  how  long  it  would  be 
before  "Juh'a"  came  face  to  face  with  Dick  Carter 
somewhere  or  other,  and  trying  to  keep  one  eye  on 
Thoburn  while  I  kept  Mr.  Pierce  straight  with  the 
other — that  day,  during  luncheon,  Mike  the  bath 
man  came  out  to  the  spring-house  and  made  a  howl 
about  his  wages.  He'd  been  looking  surly  for  two 
days. 

"What  about  your  wages?"  I  snapped.  "Aren't 
you  getting  what  you've  always  had  ?" 

"No  tips!"  he  said  sulkily.  "Only  a  few  taking 
baths — only  one  daily,  and  that's  that  man  Jennings. 
There's  no  use  talking,  Miss  Minnie,  I've  got  to  have 
a  double  percentage  on  that  man  or  you'll  have  to 
muzzle  him.  He — he's  dangerous." 

"If  I  give  you  the  double  percentage,  will  you 
stay?" 

"I  don't  know  but  that  I'd  rather  have  the  muzzle, 
Miss  Minnie,"  he  answered  slowly,  "but — I'll  stay. 
It  won't  be  for  long." 

Which  left  me  thinking.  I'd  seen  Thoburn  talk- 
ing to  Mike  more  than  once  lately,  and  he'd  been 
going  around  with  an  air  of  assurance  that  didn't 


144         WHERE   THERE'S    A    WILL 

make  me  any  too  cheerful.  Evenings,  when  I'd  re- 
lieved Amanda  King  at  the  news  stand,  I'd  seen 
Thoburn  examining  the  woodwork  of  the  windows, 
and  only  the  night  before,  happening  on  the  veranda 
unexpectedly,  I  found  Mike  and  him  measuring  it 
with  a  tape  line.  As  I  say,  Mike's  visit  left  me 
thinking. 

The  usual  crowd  came  out  that  afternoon  and 
drank  water  and  sat  around  the  fire  and  complained 
— all  except  Senator  Biggs,  who  happened  in  just 
as  I  was  pouring  melted  butter  over  a  dish  of  hot 
salted  pop-corn.  He  stood  just  inside  the  door, 
sniffling,  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  butter,  and  then 
groaned  and  went  out.  He  looked  terrible — his 
clothes  hung  on  him  like  bags ;  as  the  bishop  said,  it 
was  ghastly  to  see  a  convexity  change  to  such  a  con- 
cavity in  three  days. 

Mr.  Moody  won  three  dollars  that  day  from  the 
slot-machine  and  was  almost  civil  to  his  wife,  but 
old  Jennings  sat  with  his  foot  on  a  stool  and  yelled 
if  anybody  slammed  the  door.  Mrs.  Hutchins 
brought  him  out  with  her  eyes  red  and  asked  me 
if  she  could  leave  him  there. 

"I'm  sorry  if  I  was  rude  to  you  the  other  night. 


WE    GET    A    DOCTOR  145 

Minnie,"  she  said,  "but  I  was  upset.  I'm  so  worn- 
out  that  I'll  have  to  lie  down  for  an  hour,  and  if  he 
doesn't  get  better  soon,  I — I  shall  have  to  have  help. 
My  nerves  are  gone." 

At  four  o'clock  Mr.  Sam  came  in,  and  he  had  Mr. 
Thoburn  tight  by  the  arm. 

"My  dear  old  chap,"  he  was  saying,  "it  would  be 
as  much  as  your  life's  worth.  That  ground  is  full 
of  holes  and  just  now  covered  with  snow — !" 

He  caught  my  eye,  and  wiped  his  forehead. 

"Heaven  help  us !"  he  said,  coming  over  to  the 
spring,  "I  found  him  making  for  the  shelter-house, 
armed  with  a  foot  rule!  Somebody's  got  to  take 
him  in  hand — I  tell  you,  the  man's  a  menace !" 

"What  about  the  doctor?"  I  asked,  reaching  up 
his  glass. 

"Be  here  to-night,"  he  answered,  "on  the — " 

But  at  that  minute  a  boy  brought  a  telegram  down 
and  handed  it  to  him.  The  new  doctor  was  laid  up 
with  influenza ! 

We  sat  there  after  the  others  had  gone,  and  Mr. 
Sam  said  he  was  for  giving  up  the  fight,  only  to 
come  out  now  with  the  truth  would  mean  such  a 
lot  of  explaining  and  a  good  many  people  would 


146         WHERE   THERE'S    A    WILL 

likely  find  it  funny.  Mr.  Pierce  came  in  later  and 
we  gave  him  the  telegram  to  read. 

"I  don't  see  why  on  earth  they  need  a  doctor, 
anyhow,"  he  said,  "they're  not  sick.  If  they'd  take 
a  little  exercise  and  get  some  air  in  their  lungs — " 

"My  dear  fellow,"  Mr.  Sam  cried  in  despair, 
"some  people  are  born  in  sanatoriums,  some  acquire 
them,  and  others  have  them  thrust  upon  them — I've 
had  this  place  thrust  upon  me.  I  don't  know  why 
they  want  a  doctor,  but  they  do.  They  balked  at 
Rodgers  from  the  village.  They  want  somebody 
here  at  night.  Mr.  Jennings  has  the  gout  and  there's 
the  deuce  to  pay.  Some  of  them  talk  of  leaving." 

"Let  'em  leave,"  said  Mr.  Pierce.  "If  they'd  go 
home  and  drink  three  gallons  of  any  kind  of  pure 
water  a  day — " 

"Sh !  That's  heresy  here !  My  dear  fellow,  we've 
got  to  keep  them." 

Mr.  Pierce  glanced  at  the  telegram  and  handed 
it  back. 

"Lot's  of  starving  M.  D.'s  would  jump  at  the 
chance,"  he  said,  "but  if  it's  as  urgent  as  all  this  we 
can't  wait  to  hunt.  I'll  tell  you,  Van  Alstyne,  there's 
a  chap  down  in  the  village — he  was  the  character 


WE   GET   A   DOCTOR  147 

man  with  the  Sweet  Peas  Company — and  he's 
stranded  there.  I  saw  him  this  morning.  He's 
washing  dishes  in  the  depot  restaurant  for  his  meals. 
We  used  to  call  him  Doc,  and  I've  a  hazy  idea  that 
he's  a  graduate  M.  D. — name's  Barnes." 

"Great!"  cried  Mr.  Van  Alstyne.  "Let's  have 
Barnes.  You  get  him,  will  you,  Pierce?" 

Mr.  Pierce  promised  and  they  started  out  to- 
gether. At  the  door  Mr.  Sam  turned. 

"Oh,  by  the  way,  Minnie,"  he  called,  "better  gild 
one  of  your  chairs  and  put  a  red  cushion  on  it.  The 
prince  has  arrived." 

Well,  I  thought  it  all  out  that  afternoon  as  I 
washed  the  glasses,  and  it  was  terrible.  I  had  two 
people  in  the  shelter-house  to  feed  and  look  after 
like  babies,  with  Tillie  getting  more  curious  every 
day  about  the  basket  she  brought,  and  not  to  be  held 
much  longer;  and  I  had  a  man  running  the  sanato- 
rium and  running  it  to  the  devil  as  fast  as  it  could 
go.  Not  that  he  wasn't  a  nice  young  man,  big, 
strong- jawed  and  all  that,  but  you  can't  make  a 
diplomat  out  of  an  ordinary  man  in  three  days,  and 
it  takes  more  diplomacy  to  run  a  sanatorium  a  week 
than  it  does  to  be  secretary  of  state  for  four  years. 


148         WHERE   THERE'S    A   WILL 

Then  I  had  a  prince  incognito,  and  Thoburn  stir- 
ring up  mischief,  and  the  servants  threatening  to 
strike,  and  no  house  doctor — 

Just  as  I  got  to  that  somebody  opened  the  door 
behind  me  and  looked  in.  I  glanced  around,  and  it 
was  a  man  with  the  reddest  hair  I  ever  saw.  Mine 
was  pale  by  comparison.  He  was  rather  short  and 
heavy-set,  and  he  had  a  pleasant  face,  although  not 
handsome,  his  nose  being  slightly  bent  to  the  left. 
But  at  first  all  I  could  see  was  his  hair. 

"Good  evening,"  he  said,  edging  himself  in.  "Are 
you  Miss  Waters?" 

"Yes,"  I  said,  rising  and  getting  a  glass  ready, 
"although  I'm  not  called  that  often,  except  by  peo- 
ple who  want  to  pun  on  my  name  and  my  business." 
I  looked  at  him  sharply,  but  he  hadn't  intended  any 
pun. 

He  took  off  his  hat  and  came  over  to  the  spring 
where  I  was  filling  his  glass. 

"If  that's  for  me,  you  needn't  bother,"  he  said. 
"If  it  tastes  as  it  smells,  I'm  not  thirsty.  My  name's 
Barnes,  and  I  was  to  wait  here  for  Mr.  Van  Al- 
styne." 

"Barnes !"  I  repeated.    "Then  you're  the  doctor." 


WE    GET    A    DOCTOR  149 

He  grinned,  and  stood  turning  his  hat  around  in 
his  hands. 

"Not  exactly,"  he  said.  "I  graduated  in  medicine 
a  good  many  years  ago,  but  after  a  year  of  it,  wear- 
ing out  more  seats  of  trousers  waiting  for  patients 
than  I  earned  enough  to  pay  for,  and  having  to  have 
new  trousers,  I  took  to  other  things." 

"Oh,  yes,"  I  said.     "You're  an  actor  now." 

He  looked  thoughtful. 

"Some  people  think  I'm  not,"  he  answered,  "but 
I'm  on  the  stage.  Graduated  there  from  prize-fight- 
ing. Prize-fighting,  the  stage,  and  then  writing  for 
magazines — that's  the  usual  progression.  Some- 
times, as  a  sort  of  denouement  before  the  final  cur- 
tain, we  have  dinner  at  the  White  House." 

I  took  a  liking  to  the  man  at  once.  It  was  a  re- 
lief to  have  somebody  who  was  willing  to  tell  all 
about  himself  and  wasn't  incognito,  or  in  hiding,  or 
under  somebody  else's  name.  I  put  a  fresh  log  on 
the  fire,  and  as  it  blazed  up  I  saw  him  looking  at  me. 

"Ye  gods  and  little  fishes!"  he  said.  "Another 
redhead !  Why,  we're  as  alike  as  two  carrots  off 
the  same  bunch !" 

In  five  minutes   I  knew  how  old   he  was,   and 


150        WHERE  THERE'S   A   WILL 

where  he  was  raised,  and  that  what  he  wanted  more 
than  anything  on  earth  was  a  little  farmhouse  with 
chickens  and  a  cow. 

"Where  you  can  have  air,  you  know,"  he  said, 
waving  his  hands,  which  were  covered  with  reddish 
hair.  "Lord,  in  the  city  I  starve  for  air!  And 
where,  when  you're  getting  soft  you  can  go  out  and 
tackle  the  wood-pile.  That's  living !" 

And  then  he  wanted  to  know  what  he  was  to  do 
at  the  sanatorium  and  I  told  him  as  well  as  I  could. 
I  didn't  tell  him  everything,  but  I  explained  why  Mr. 
Pierce  was  calling  himself  Carter,  and  about  the 
two  in  the  shelter-house.  I  had  to.  He  knew  as 
well  as  I  did  that  three  days  before  Mr.  Pierce  had 
had  nothing  to  his  name  but  a  folding  automobile 
road  map  or  whatever  it  was. 

"Good  for  old  Pierce!"  he  said  when  I  finished. 
"He's  a  prince,  Miss  Waters.  If  you'd  seen  him 
sending  those  girls  back  to  town — well,  I'll  do  all 
I  can  to  help  him.  But  I'm  not  much  of  a  doctor. 
It's  safe  to  acknowledge  it;  you'll  find  it  out  soon 
enough." 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Van  Alstyne  came  in  just  then,  and 
Mr.  Sam  told  him  what  he  was  expected  to  do.  It 


WE    GET    A    DOCTOR  151 

wasn't  much :  he  was  to  tell  them  at  what  temper- 
atures to  take  their  baths,  "and  Minnie  will  help 
you  out  with  that,"  he  added,  and  what  they  were  to 
eat  and  were  not  to  eat.  "Minnie  will  tell  you  that, 
too,"  he  finished,  and  Mr.  Barnes,  Doctor  Barnes, 
came  over  and  shook  my  hand. 

"I'm  perfectly  willing  to  be  first  assistant,"  he 
declared.  "We'll  put  our  heads  together  and  the 
result  will  be — " 

"Combustion!"  said  Mr.  Sam,  and  we  all  laughed. 

"Remember,"  Mr.  Sam  instructed  him,  as  Doctor 
Barnes  started  out,  "when  you  don't  know  what  to 
prescribe,  order  a  Turkish  bath.  The  baths  are  to  a 
sanatorium  what  the  bar  is  to  a  club — they  pay  the 
bills." 

Well,  we  got  it  all  fixed  and  Doctor  Barnes  started 
out,  but  at  the  door  he  stopped. 

"I  say,"  he  asked  in  an  undertone,  "the  stork 
doesn't  light  around  here,  does  he  ?" 

"Not  if  they  see  him  first !"  I  replied  grimly,  and 
he  went  out. 


CHAPTER    XIII 

THE    PRINCE PRINCIPALLY 

IT  was  all  well  enough  for  me  to  say — as  I  had  to 
to  Tillie  many  a  time — that  it  was  ridiculous  to 
make  a  fuss  over  a  person  for  what,  after  all,  was 
an  accident  of  birth.  It  was  well  enough  for  me  to 
say  that  it  was  only  by  chance  that  I  wasn't  strutting 
about  with  a  crown  on  my  head  and  a  man  blowing 
a  trumpet  to  let  folks  know  I  was  coming,  and  by 
the  same  token  and  the  same  chance  Prince  Oskar 
might  have  been  a  red-haired  spring-house  girl, 
breaking  the  steels  in  her  figure  stooping  over  to 
ladle  mineral  water  out  of  a  hole  in  the  earth. 

Nevertheless,  at  five  o'clock,  after  every  one  had 
gone,  when  I  saw  Miss  Patty,  muffled  in  furs,  trip- 
ping out  through  the  snow,  with  a  tall  thin  man  be- 
side her,  walking  very  straight  and  taking  one  step 
to  her  four,  I  felt  as  though  somebody  had  hit  me 
at  the  end  of  my  breast-bone. 

'52 


THE    PRINCE— PRINCIPALLY        153 

They  stopped  a  minute  outside  before  they  came 
in,  and  I  had  to  take  myself  in  hand. 

"Now  look  here,  Minnie,  you  idiot,"  I  said  to  my- 
self, "this  is  America;  you're  as  good  as  he  is;  not 
a  bend  of  the  knee  or  a  stoop  of  the  neck.  And  if 
he  calls  you  'my  good  girl'  hit  him." 

They  came  in  together,  laughing  and  talking,  and, 
to  be  honest,  if  I  hadn't  caught  the  back  of  a  chair, 
I'd  have  had  one  foot  back  of  the  other  and  been 
making  a  courtesy  in  spite  of  myself. 

"We're  late,  Minnie !"  Miss  Patty  said.  "Oskar, 
this  is  one  of  my  best  friends,  and  you  are  to  be  very 
nice  to  her." 

He  had  one  of  those  single  glass  things  in  his  eye 
and  he  gave  me  a  good  stare  through  it.  Seen  close 
he  was  handsomer  than  Mr.  Pierce,  but  he  looked 
older  than  his  picture. 

"Ask  her  if  she  won't  be  nice  to  me,"  he  said  in 
as  good  English  as  mine,  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"Any  of  Miss  Patty's  friends —  "  I  began,  with  a 
lump  in  my  throat,  and  gave  his  hand  a  good 
squeeze.  I  thought  he  looked  startled,  and  sud- 
denlv  I  had  a  sort  of  chill. 


154         WHERE   THERE'S    A    WILL 

"Good  gracious!"  I  exclaimed,  "should  I  have 

kissed  it?" 

I 
They  roared  at  that,  and  Miss  Patty  had  to  sit 

down  in  a  chair. 

"You  see,  she  knows,  Oskar,"  she  said.  "The 
rest  are  thinking  and  perhaps  guessing,  but  Minnie 
is  the  only  one  that  knows,  and  she  never  talks. 
Everybody  who  comes  here  tells  Minnie  his  trou- 
bles." 

"But — am  I  a  trouble?"  he  asked  in  a  low  tone. 
I  was  down  in  the  spring,  but  I  heard  it. 

"So  far  you  have  hardly  been  an  unalloyed  joy," 
she  replied,  and  from  the  spring  I  echoed  "Amen." 

"Yes — I'm  so  hung  with  family  skeletons  that  I 
clatter  when  I  walk,"  I  explained,  pretending  I 
hadn't  heard,  and  brought  them  both  glasses  of 
water.  "It's  got  to  be  a  habit  with  some  people  to 
save  their  sciatica  and  their  husband's  dispositions 
and  their  torpid  livers  and  their  unpaid  bills  and 
bring  'em  here  to  me." 

He  sniffed  at  the  glass  and  put  it  down. 

"Herr  Gott!"  he  said,  "what  a  water !  It  is — the 
whole  thing  is  extraordinary !  I  can  understand  the 


THE    PRINCE— PRINCIPALLY       155 

reason  for  Carlsbad  or  Wiesbaden — it  is  gay.  One 
sees  one's  friends ;  it  is — social.  But  here — !" 

He  got  up  and,  lifting  a  window  curtain,  peered 
out  into  the  snow. 

"Here,"  he  repeated,  "shut  in  by  forests  and  hills, 
a  thousand  miles  from  life — "  He  shrugged  his 
shoulders  and  came  back  to  the  table.  "It  is  well 
enough  for  the  father,"  he  went  on  to  Miss  Patty, 
"but  for  you !  Why — it  is  depressing,  gray.  The 
only  bit  of  color  in  it  all  is — here,  in  what  you  call 
the  spring-house."  I  thought  he  meant  Miss  Patty's 
cheeks  or  her  lovely  violet  eyes,  but  he  was  looking 
at  my  hair.  I  had  caught  his  eye  on  it  before,  but 
this  time  he  made  no  secret  about  it,  and  he  sighed, 
for  all  the  world  as  if  it  reminded  him  of  something. 
He  went  over  to  the  slot-machine  and  stood  in  front 
of  it,  humming  and  trying  the  different  combina- 
tions. I  must  say  he  had  a  nice  back. 

Miss  Patty  came  over  and  slipped  her  hand  in 
mine. 

"Well?"  she  whispered,  looking  at  me  with  her 
pretty  eyebrows  raised. 

"He  looks  all  right,"  I  had  to  confess.  "Perhaps 
you  can  coax  him  to  shave." 


156         WHERE   THERE'S    A   WILL 

She  laughed. 

"Oskar!"  she  called,  "you  have  passed,  but  you 
are  conditioned.  Minnie  objects  to  the  mustache." 

He  turned  and  looked  at  me  gravely. 

"It  is  my — greatest  attraction,"  he  declared,  "but 
it  is  also  a  great  care.  If  Miss  Minnie  demands  it, 
I  shall  give  it  to  her  in  a — in  a  little  box."  He 
sauntered  over  and  looked  at  me  in  his  audacious 
way.  "But  you  must  promise  to  care  for  it.  Many 
women  have  loved  it." 

"I  believe  that!"  I  answered,  and  stared  back  at 
him  without  blinking.  "I  guess  I  wouldn't  want  the 
responsibility." 

But  I  had  an  idea  that  he  meant  what  he  said 
about  the  many  women,  and  that  Miss  Patty  knew 
it  as  well  as  I  did.  She  flushed  a  little,  and  they 
went  very  soon  after  that.  I  stood  and  watched 
them  until  they  disappeared  in  the  snow,  and  I  felt 
lonelier  than  ever,  and  sad,  although  certainly  he 
was  better  than  I  had  expected  to  find  him.  He 
was  a  man,  and  not  a  little  cub  with  a  body  hardly 
big  enough  to  carry  his  forefathers'  weaknesses. 
But  he  had  a  cold  eye  and  a  warm  mouth,  and  that 


THE    PRINCE— PRINCIPALLY        157 

sort  of  man  is  generally  a  social  success  and  a  mat- 
rimonial failure. 

It  wasn't  until  toward  night  that  I  remembered 
I'd  been  talking  to  a  real  prince  and  I  hadn't  once 
said  "your  Highness"  or  "your  Excellency"  or  what- 
ever I  should  have  said.  I  had  said  "You!" 

I  had  hardly  closed  the  door  after  them  when  it 
opened  again  and  Mr.  Pierce  came  in.  He  shut  the 
door  and,  going  over  to  one  of  the  tables,  put  a 
package  down  on  it. 

"Here's  the  stuff  you  wanted  for  the  spring,  Min- 
nie," he  announced.  "I  suppose  I  can't  do  any- 
thing more  than  register  a  protest  against  it?" 

"You  needn't  bother  doing  that,"  I  answered, 
"unless  it  makes  you  feel  better.  Your  authority 
ends  at  that  door.  Inside  the  spring-house  I'm  in 
control." 

( It's  hard  to  believe,  with  things  as  they  are,  that 
I  once  really  believed  that.  But  I  did.  It  was  three 
full  days  later  that  I  learned  that  I'd  been  mis- 
taken!) 

Well,  he  sat  there  and  looked  at  nothing  while  I 
heated  water  in  my  brass  kettle  over  the  fire  and 


158         WHERE   THERE'S    A   WILL 

dissolved  the  things  against  Thoburn's  quick  eye 
the  next  day,  and  he  didn't  say  anything.  He  had  a 
gift  for  keeping  quiet,  Mr.  Pierce  had.  It  got  on 
my  nerves  after  a  while. 

"Things  are  doing  better,"  I  remarked,  stirring 
up  my  mixture. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  without  moving. 

"I  suppose  they're  happier  now  they  have  a  doc- 
tor?" 

"Yes — no — I  don't  know.  He's  not  much  of  a 
doctor,  you  know — and  there  don't  seem  to  be  any 
medical  books  around." 

"There's  one  on  the  care  and  feeding  of  infants 
in  the  circulating  library,"  I  said,  "and  he  can  have 
my  Anatomy." 

"You're  generous!"  he  remarked,  with  one  of  his 
quick  smiles. 

"It's  a  book,"  I  snapped,  and  fell  to  stirring  again. 
But  he  was  moping  once  more,  with  his  feet  out 
and  his  hands  behind  his  head,  staring  at  the  ceiling. 

"I  say,  Minnie—" 

"Yes?" 

"Miss — Miss    Jennings    and    the — von    Inwald 


THE    PRINCE— PRINCIPALLY        159 

were  here  just  now,  weren't  they?  I  passed  them 
on  the  bridge." 

"Yes." 

"What — how  do  you  like  him  ?" 

"Better  than  I  expected  and  not  so  well  as  I 
might,"  I  said.  "If  you  are  going  to  the  house  soon 
you  might  take  Miss  Patty  her  handkerchief.  It's 
there  under  that  table." 

I  took  my  mixture  into  the  pantry  and  left  it  to 
cool.  But  as  I  started  back  I  stopped.  He  had  got 
the  handkerchief  and  was  standing  in  front  of  the 
fire,  holding  it  in  the  palm  of  his  hand  and  looking 
at  it.  And  all  in  a  minute  he  crushed  it  to  his  face 
with  both  hands  and  against  the  firelight  I  could  see 
him  quivering. 

I  stepped  back  into  the  pantry  and  came  out  again 
noisily.  He  was  standing  very  calm  and  quiet 
where  he  had  been  before,  and  no  handkerchief  in 
sight. 

"Well,"  I  said,  "did  you  get  it?" 

"Get  what?" 

"Miss  Patty's  handkerchief?" 

"Oh—  that!  Yes.  Here  it  is."  He  pulled  it 
out  of  his  pocket  and  held  it  up  by  the  corner. 


160         WHERE   THERE'S    A    WILL 

"Ridiculous  size,  isn't  it,  and — "  he  held  it  up  to 
his  nose — "I  dare  say  one  could  almost  tell  it  was 
hers  by  the  scent.  It's — it's  like  her." 

"Humph !"  I  said,  suddenly  suspicious,  and  looked 
at  it.  "Well,"  I  said,  "it  may  remind  you  of  Miss 
Patty,  and  the  scent  may  be  like  Miss  Patty,  but 
she  doesn't  use  perfume  on  her  handkerchief.  This 
has  an  E.  C.  on  it,  which  means  Eliza  Cobb." 

He  left  soon  after,  rather  crestfallen,  but  to  save 
my  life  I  couldn't  forget  what  I'd  seen — him  with 
that  scrap  of  linen  that  he  thought  was  hers  crushed 
to  his  face,  and  his  shoulders  heaving.  I  had  an 
idea  that  he  hadn't  cared  much  for  women  before, 
and  that,  this  being  a  first  attack,  he  hadn't  estab- 
lished what  the  old  doctor  used  to  call  an  immunity. 


CHAPTER    XIV 

PIERCE   DISAPPROVES 

MRS.  HUTCHINS  came  out  to  the  spring- 
house  the  next  morning.  She  was  dressed 
in  a  black  silk  with  real  lace  collar  and  cuffs,  and 
she  was  so  puffed  up  with  pride  that  she  forgot  to 
be  nasty  to  me. 

"I  thought  I'd  better  come  to  you,  Minnie,"  she 
said.  "There  seems  to  be  nobody  in  authority  here 
any  more.  Mr.  Carter  has  put  the — has  put  Mr. 
von  Inwald  in  the  north  wing.  I  can  not  imagine 
why  he  should  have  given  him  the  coldest  and  most 
disagreeable  part  of  the  house." 

I  said  I'd  speak  to  Mr.  Carter  and  try  to  have 
him  moved,  and  she  rustled  over  to  where  I  was 
brushing  the  hearth  and  stooped  down. 

"Mr.  von  Inwald  is  incognito,  of  course,"  she 
said,  "but  he  belongs  to  a  very  old  family  in  his  own 

161 


1 62         WHERE   THERE'S    A    WILL 

country — a  noble  family.  He  ought  to  have  the 
best  there  is  in  the  house." 

I  promised  that,  too,  and  she  went  away,  but  I 
made  up  my  mind  to  talk  to  Mr.  Pierce.  The  sana- 
torium business  isn't  one  where  you  can  put  your 
own  likes  and  dislikes  against  the  comfort  of  the 
guests. 

Miss  Cobb  came  out  a  few  minutes  after;  she 
had  on  her  new  green  silk  with  the  white  lace  trim- 
ming. She  saw  me  staring  as  she  threw  off  her 
cape  and  put  her  curler  on  the  log. 

"It's  a  little  dressy  for  so  early,  of  course,  Min- 
nie," she  said,  "but  I  wish  you'd  see  some  of  the 
other  women!  Breakfast  looked  like  an  afternoon 
reception.  What  would  you  think  of  pinning  this 
black  velvet  ribbon  around  my  head?" 

"It  might  have  done  twenty  years  ago,  Miss 
Cobb,"  I  answered,  "but  I  wouldn't  advise  it  now." 
I  was  working  at  the  slot-machine,  and  I  heard  her 
sniff  behind  me  as  she  hung  up  her  mirror  on  the 
window- frame. 

She  tried  the  curler  on  the  curtain,  which  she 
knows  I  object  to,  but  she  was  too  full  of  her  sub- 
ject to  be  sulky  for  long. 


PIERCE   DISAPPROVES  163 

"I  wish  you  could  see  Blanche  Moody!"  she  be- 
gan again,  standing  holding  the  curler,  with  a  thin 
wreath  of  smoke  making  a  halo  over  her  head. 
"Drawn  in — my  dear,  I  don't  see  how  she  can 
'breathe!  I  guess  there's  no  doubt  about  Mr.  von 
Inwald." 

"I'd  like  to  know  who  put  this  beer  check  in  the 
slot-machine  yesterday,"  I  said  as  indifferently  as  I 
could.  "What  about  Mr.  von  Inwald?" 

She  tiptoed  over  to  me,  the  halo  trailing  after  her. 

"About  his  being  a  messenger  from  the  prince  to 
Miss  Jennings !"  she  answered  in  a  whisper.  "He 
spent  last  night  closeted  with  papa,  and  the  chamber- 
maid on  that  floor  told  Lily  Biggs  that  there  was 
almost  a  quarrel." 

"That  doesn't  mean  anything,"  I  objected.  "If 
the  Angel  Gabriel  was  shut  in  with  Mr.  Jennings  for 
ten  minutes  be'd  be  blowing  his  trumpet  for  help." 

Miss  Cobb  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  took  hold 
of  a  fresh  wisp  of  hair  with  the  curler. 

"I  dare  say,"  she  assented,  "but  the  Angel  Gabriel 
wouldn't  have  waited  to  breakfast  with  Miss  Jen- 
nings, and  have  kissed  her  hand  before  everybody 
at  the  foot  of  the  stairs!" 


164        WHERE   THERE'S   A   WILL 

"Is  he  handsome  ?"  I  asked,  curious  to  know  how 
he  would  impress  other  women.  But  Miss  Cobb 
had  never  seen  a  man  she  would  call  ugly. 

"Handsome!"  she  said.  "My  dear,  he's  beauti- 
ful !  He  has  a  duel  scar  on  his  left  cheek — all  the 
nobility  have  them  over  there.  I've  a  cousin  living 
in  Berlin — she's  the  wittiest  person — and  she  says 
the  German  child  of  the  future  will  be  born  with  a 
scarred  left  cheek!" 

Well,  I  was  sick  enough  of  hearing  of  Mr.  von  In- 
wald  before  the  day  was  over.  All  morning  in  the 
spring-house  they  talked  Mr.  von  Inwald.  They  pre- 
tended to  play  cards,  but  they  were  really  playing 
European  royalty.  Every  time  somebody  laid  down 
a  queen,  he'd  say,  "Is  the  queen  still  living,  or  didn't 
she  die  a  few  years  ago  ?"  And  when  they  played  the 
knave,  they'd  start  off  about  the  prince  again. 
They'd  all  decided  that  Mr.  von  Inwald  was  noble — 
somebody  said  that  the  "von"  was  a  sort  of  title. 
The  women  were  planning  to  make  the  evenings 
more  cheerful,  too.  They  couldn't  have  a  dance  with 
the  men  using  canes  or  forbidden  to  exercise,  but 
Miss  Cobb  had  a  lot  of  what  she  called  "parlor 


PIERCE   DISAPPROVES  165 

games"  that  she  wanted  to  try  out.  "Introducing 
the  Jones  family"  was  one  of  them. 

In  the  afternoon  Mr.  von  Inwald  came  out  to  the 
spring-house  and  sat  around,  very  affable  and 
friendly,  drinking  the  water.  He  and  the  bishop 
grew  quite  chummy.  Miss  Patty  was  not  there,  but 
about  four  o'clock  Mr.  Pierce  came  out.  He  did 
not  sit  down,  but  wandered  around  the  room,  not 
talking  to  anybody,  but  staring,  whenever  he  could, 
at  the  prince.  Once  I  caught  Mr.  von  Inwald's  eyes 
fixed  on  him,  as  if  he  might  have  seen  him  before. 
After  a  while  Mr.  Pierce  sat  down  in  a  corner  like 
a  sulky  child  and  filled  his  pipe,  and  as  nobody  no- 
ticed him  except  to  complain  about  the  pipe,  which 
he  didn't  even  hear,  he  sat  there  for  a  half-hour, 
bent  forward,  with  his  pipe  clenched  in  his  teeth, 
and  never  took  his  eyes  off  Mr.  von  Inwald's  face. 

Senator  Biggs  was  the  one  who  really  caused  the 
trouble.  He  spent  a  good  deal  of  time  in  the  spring- 
house  trying  to  fool  his  stomach  by  keeping  it  filled 
up  all  the  time  with  water.  He  had  got  past  the 
cranky  stage,  being  too  weak  for  it;  his  face  was 
folded  up  in  wrinkles  like  an  accordion  and  his 


1 66         WHERE    THERE'S    A    WILL 

double  chin  was  so  flabby  you  could  have  tucked 
it  away  inside  his  collar. 

"What  do  you  think  of  American  women,  Mr. 
von  Inwald  ?"  he  asked,  and  everybody  stopped  play- 
ing cards  and  listened  for  the  answer.  As  Mr.  von 
Inwald  represented  the  prince,  wouldn't  he  be  likely 
to  voice  the  prince's  opinion  of  American  women? 

It's  my  belief  Mr.  von  Inwald  was  going  to  say 
something  nice.  He  smiled  as  if  he  meant  to,  but 
just  then  he  saw  Mr.  Pierce  in  his  corner  sneering 
behind  his  pipe.  They  looked  at  each  other  steadily, 
and  nobody  could  mistake  the  hate  in  Mr.  Pierce's 
face  or  his  sneer.  After  a  minute  the  prince  looked 
away  and  shrugged  his  shoulders,  but  he  didn't  make 
his  pretty  speech. 

"American  women !"  he  said,  turning  his  glass  of 
spring  water  around  on  the  table  before  him,  "they 
are  very  lovely,  of  course."  He  looked  around  and 
there  were  Mrs.  Moody  and  Mrs.  Biggs  and  Miss 
i  Cobb,  and  he  even  glanced  at  me  in  the  spring. 
Then  he  looked  again  at  Mr.  Pierce  and  kept  his 
eyes  there.  "But  they  are  spoiled,  fearfully  spoiled. 
They  rule  their  parents  and  they  expect  to  rule  their 


PIERCE   DISAPPROVES  167 

husbands.  In  Europe  we  do  things  better;  we  are 
not — what  is  the  English? — hag-ridden?" 

There  was  a  sort  of  murmur  among  the  men,  but 
the  women  all  nodded  as  if  they  thought  Europe 
was  entirely  right.  They'd  have  agreed  with  him  if 
he'd  advocated  sixteen  wives  sitting  cross-legged 
on  a  mat,  like  the  Turks.  Mr.  Pierce  was  still  star- 
ing at  the  prince. 

"What  I  don't  quite  understand,  Mr.  von  In- 
wald,"  the  bishop  put  in  in  his  nice  way,  "is  your 
custom  of  expecting  a  girl  to  bring  her  husband  a 
certain  definite  sum  of  money  and  to  place  it  under 
the  husband's  control.  Our  wealthy  American 
girls  control  their  own  money,"  He  was  thinking 
of  Miss  Patty,  and  everybody  knew  it. 

The  prince  turned  red  and  glared  at  the  bishop. 
Then  I  think  he  remembered  that  they  didn't  know 
who  he  was,  and  he  smiled  and  started  to  turning 
the  glass  again. 

"Pardon !"  he  said.  "Is  it  not  better?  What  do 
women  know  of  money?  They  throw  it  away  on 
trifles,  dress,  jewels — American  women  are  extrava- 
gant. It  is  one  result  of  their — of  their  spoiling." 


i68        WHERE   THERE'S   A   WILL 

Mr.  Pierce  got  up  and  emptied  his  pipe  into  the 
fire.  Then  he  turned. 

"I'm  afraid  you  have  not  known  the  best  type  of 
American  women,"  he  said,  looking  hard  at  the 
prince.  "Our  representative  women  are  our  middle- 
class  women.  They  do  not  contract  European  al- 
liances, not  having  sufficient  money  to  attract  the 
attention  of  the  nobility,  or  enough  to  buy  titles,  as 
they  do  pearls,  for  the  purpose  of  adornment." 

Mr.  von  Inwald  got  up,  and  his  face  was  red. 
Mr.  Pierce  was  white  and  sneering. 

"Also,"  he  went  on,  "when  they  marry  they  wish 
to  control  their  own  money,  and  not  see  it  spent  in 
— ways  with  which  you  are  doubtless  familiar." 

We  were  all  paralyzed.  Nobody  moved.  Mr. 
Pierce  put  his  pipe  in  his  pocket  and  stalked  out, 
slamming  the  door.  Then  Mr.  von  Inwald  shrugged 
his  shoulders  and  laughed. 

"I  see  I  shall  have  to  talk  to  our  young  friend," 
he  said  and  picked  up  his  glass.  "I'm  afraid  I've 
given  a  wrong  impression.  I  like  the  American 
women  very  much ;  too  well,"  he  went  on  with  a 
flash  of  his  teeth,  looking  around  the  room,  and 
brought  the  glass  to  the  spring  for  me  to  fill.  But 


PIERCE   DISAPPROVES  169 

as  I've  said  before,  I  can  tell  a  good  bit  about  a  man 
from  the  way  he  gives  me  his  glass,  and  he  was  in 
a  perfect  frenzy  of  rage.  When  I  reached  it  back 
to  him  he  gripped  it  until  his  nails  were  white. 

My  joint  ached  all  the  rest  of  the  afternoon. 
About  five  o'clock  Mr.  Thoburn  stopped  in  long 
enough  to  say:  "What's  this  I  hear  about  Carter 
making  an  ass  of  himself  to-day?" 

"I  haven't  heard  it,"  I  answered.     "What  is  it?" 

But  he  only  laughed  and  turned  up  his  collar 
to  go. 

"Jove,  Minnie,"  he  said,  "why  do  women  of  your 
spirit  always  champion  the  losing  side?  Be  a  good 
girl ;  give  me  a  hand  now  and  then  with  this  thing, 
and  I'll  see  you  don't  lose  by  it." 

"We're  not  going  to  lose,"  I  retorted  angrily. 
"Nobody  has  left  yet.  We  are  still  ahead  on  the 
books." 

He  came  over  and  shook  a  finger  in  my  face. 

"Nobody  has  left — and  why?  Because  they're 
all  taking  a  series  of  baths.  Wait  until  they've  had 
their  fifteen,  or  twenty-one,  or  whatever  the  cure  is, 
and  then  see  them  run!" 

It  was  true  enough  ;  I  knew  it. 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE   PRINCE,    WITH    APOLOGIES 

TILLIE  brought  the  supper  basket  for  the  shel- 
ter-house about  six  o'clock  and  sat  down  for 
a  minute  by  the  fire.  She  said  Mr.  Pierce  (Carter 
to  her)  had  started  out  with  a  gun  about  five  o'clock. 
It  was  foolish,  but  it  made  me  uneasy. 

"They've  gone  plumb  crazy  over  that  Mr.  von 
Inwald,"  she  declared.  "It  makes  me  tired.  How 
do  they  know  he's  anything  but  what  he  says  he  is  ? 
He  may  be  a  messenger  from  the  emperor  of  Aus- 
tria, and  he  may  be  selling  flannel  chest  protectors. 
Miss  Cobb's  all  set  up;  she's  talking  about  getting 
up  an  entertainment  and  asking  that  Miss  Summers 
to  recite." 

She  got  up,  leaving  the  basket  on  the  hearth. 

"And  say,"  she  said,  "you  ought  to  see  that  dog 
now.  It's  been  soakin'  in  peroxide  all  day !" 

She  went  out  with  the  peroxide,  but  a  moment 
170 


THE    PRINCE,    WITH    APOLOGIES     171 

later  she  opened  the  door  and  stuck  her  head  in, 
nodding  toward  the  basket.  "Say,"  she  said,  "the 
chef's  getting  fussy  about  the  stuff  I'm  using  in  the 
diet  kitchen.  You've  got  to  cut  it  out  soon,  Minnie. 
If  I  was  you  I'd  let  him  starve." 

"What !"  I  screeched,  and  grasped  the  rail  of  the 
spring. 

"Let  him  starve!"  she  repeated. 

"Wha — what  are  you  talking  about?"  I  de- 
manded when  I  got  my  voice. 

She  winked  at  me  from  the  doorway. 

"Oh,  I'm  on  all  right,  Minnie!"  she  assured  me, 
"although  heaven  only  knows  where  he  puts  it  all ! 
He's  sagged  in  like  a  chair  with  broken  springs." 

I  saw  then  that  she  thought  I  was  feeding  Senator 
Biggs  on  the  sly,  and  I  breathed  again.  But  my 
nerves  were  nearly  gone,  and  when  just  then  I  heard 
a  shot  from  the  direction  of  the  deer  park,  even 
Tillie  noticed  how  pale  I  got. 

"I  don't  know  what's  come  over  you,  Minnie," 
she  said.  "That's  only  Mr.  Carter  shooting  rabbits. 
I  saw  him  go  out  as  I  started  down  the  path." 

I  was  still  nervous  when  I  put  on  my  shawl  and 
picked  up  the  basket.  But  there  was  a  puddle  on  the 


1 72         WHERE   THERE'S    A    WILL 

floor  and  the  soup  had  spilled.  There  was  nothing 
for  it  but  to  go  back  for  more  soup,  and  I  got  it 
from  the  kitchen  without  the  chef  seeing  me.  When 
I  opened  the  spring-house  door  again  Mr.  Pierce 
was  by  the  fire,  and  in  front  of  him,  where  I'd 
left  the  basket,  lay  a  dead  rabbit.  He  was  sitting 
there  with  his  chin  in  his  hands  looking  at  the  poor 
thing,  and  there  was  no  basket  in  sight. 

"Well,"  I  asked,  "did  you  change  my  basket  into 
a  dead  rabbit?" 

"Basket !"  he  said,  looking  up.     "What  basket  ?" 

I  looked  everywhere,  but  the  basket  was  gone,  and 
after  a  while  I  decided  that  Mr.  Dick  had  had  an  at- 
tack of  thoughtfulness  (or  hunger)  and  had  carried 
it  out  himself. 

And  all  the  time  I  looked  for  the  basket  Mr. 
Pierce  sat  with  the  gun  across  his  knees  and  stared 
at  the  rabbit. 

"I'd  thank  you  to  take  that  messy  thing  out  of 
here/'  I  told  him. 

"Poor  little  chap !"  he  exclaimed.  "He  was  play- 
ing in  the  snow,  and  I  killed  him — not  because  I 
wanted  food  or  sport,  Minnie,  but — well,  because  I 
had  to  kill  something." 


THE    PRINCE,    WITH    APOLOGIES     173 

"I  hope  you  don't  have  those  attacks  often,"  I 
said.  He  looked  at  the  rabbit  and  sighed. 

"Never  in  my  life!"  he  answered.  "For  food  or 
sport,  that's  different,  but — blood-lust!"  He  got  up 
and  put  the  gun  in  the  corner,  and  I  saw  he  looked 
white  and  miserable. 

"I  don't  like  myself  to-night,  Minnie,"  he  said, 
trying  to  smile,  "and  nobody  likes  me.  I'm  going 
into  the  garden  to  eat  worms !" 

I  didn't  like  to  scold  him  when  he  was  feeling  bad 
anyhow,  but  business  is  business.  So  I  asked  him 
how  long  he  thought  people  would  stay  if  he  acted 
as  he  had  that  day.  I  said  that  a  sanatorium  was 
a  place  where  the  man  who  runs  it  can't  afford  to 
have  likes  and  dislikes ;  that  for  my  part  I'd  a  good 
deal  rather  he'd  get  rid  of  his  excitement  by  shoot- 
ing off  a  gun,  provided  he  pointed  it  away  from  the 
house,  than  to  sit  around  and  let  his  mind  explode 
and  kill  all  our  prospects.  I  told  him,  too,  to  re- 
member that  he  wasn't  responsible  for  the  morals 
or  actions  of  his  guests,  only  for  their  health. 

"Health !"  he  echoed,  and  kicked  a  chair.  "Health ! 
Why,  if  I  wanted  to  keep  a  good  dog  in  condition, 
Minnie,  I  wouldn't  bring  him  here." 


174         WHERE    THERE'S    A    WILL 

"No,"  I  retorted,  "you'd  shut  him  in  an  old  out 
oven,  and  give  him  a  shoe  to  chew,  and  he'd  come 
out  in  three  days  frisking  and  happy.  But  you 
can't  do  that  with  people." 

"Why  not?"  he  asked.  "Although,  of  course, 
the  supply  of  out  ovens  and  old  shoes  is  limited 
here." 

"As  far  as  Mr.  von  Inwald  goes,"  I  went  on, 
"that's  not  your  affair  or  mine.  If  Miss  Patty's  own 
father  can't  prevent  it.  why  should  you  worry 
about  it?" 

"Precisely,"  he  agreed.  "Why  should  I  ?  But  I 
do,  Minnie — that's  the  devil  of  it." 

"There  are  plenty  of  nice  girls,"  I  suggested,  feel- 
ing rather  sorry  for  him. 

"Are  there?  Oh,  I  dare  say."  He  stooped  and 
picked  up  his  rabbit.  "Straight  through  the  head; 
not  so  bad  for  twilight.  Poor  little  chap!" 

He  said  good  night  and  went  out,  taking  the  gun 
and  the  rabbit  with  him,  and  I  went  into  the  pantry 
to  finish  straightening  things  for  the  night.  In  a 
few  minutes  I  heard  voices  in  the  other  room,  one 
Mr.  Pierce's,  and  one  with  a  strong  German  accent. 

"When  was  that?"     Mr.  von  Inwald's  voice. 


THE    PRINCE,    WITH    APOLOGIES     175 

"A  year  ago,  in  Vienna." 

"Where?" 

"At  the  Bal  Tabarin.  You  were  in  a  loge.  The 
man  I  was  with  told  me  who  the  woman  was.  It 
was  she,  I  think,  who  suggested  that  you  lean  over 
the  rail— " 

"Ah,  so!"  said  Mr.  von  Inwald  as  if  he  just  re- 
membered. "Ah,  yes,  I  recall — I  was  with — the 
lady  was  red-haired,  is  it  not  ?  And  it  was  she  who 
desired  me — " 

"You  leaned  over  the  rail  and  poured  a  glass  of 
wine  on  my  head.  It  was  very  funny.  The — lady 
was  charmed." 

"I  recall  it  perfectly.  I  remember  that  I  did  it 
under  protest — it  was  a  very  fine  wine,  and  ex- 
pensive." 

"Then  you  also  recall,"  said  Mr.  Pierce,  very 
quietly,  "that  because  you  were  with  a — well,  be- 
cause you  were  with  a  woman,  I  could  not  return 
your  compliment.  But  I  demanded  the  privilege  at 
some  future  date  when  you  were  alone." 

"It  is  a  pity,"  replied  Mr.  von  Inwald,  "that  now, 
when  I  am  alone,  there  is  no  wine !" 


176         WHERE   THERE'S    A    WILL 

"No,  there  is  no  wine,"  Mr.  Pierce  agreed  slowly, 
"but  there  is — " 

I  opened  the  door  at  that,  and  both  of  them 
started.  Mr.  von  Inwald  was  standing  with  his  arms 
folded,  and  Mr.  Pierce  had  one  arm  raised  holding 
up  a  glass  of  spring  water.  In  another  second  it 
would  have  been  in  the  other  man's  face. 

I  walked  over  to  Mr.  Pierce  and  took  the  glass 
out  of  his  hand,  and  his  expression  was  funny  to  see. 

"I've  been  looking  everywhere  for  that  glass,"  I 
said.  "It's  got  to  be  washed." 

Mr.  von  Inwald  laughed  and  picked  up  his  soft 
hat  from  the  table.  He  turned  around  at  the  door 
and  looked  back  at  Mr.  Pierce,  still  laughing. 

"Accept  my  apologies !"  he  said.  "It  was  such  a 
fine  wine,  and  so  expensive." 

Then  he  went  out. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

STOP,  THIEF! 

I  WAS  pretty  nervous  when  I  took  charge  of  the 
news  stand  that  evening.  Amanda  King  had  an 
appointment  with  the  dentist  and  had  left  everything 
topsyturvey.  I  was  still  straightening  up  when  peo- 
ple began  to  come  down  to  dinner. 

Miss  Cobb  walked  over  to  the  news  stand,  and 
she'd  cut  the  white  yoke  out  of  her  purple  silk.  She 
looked  very  dressy,  although  somewhat  thin. 

"Everybody  has  dressed  for  dinner  to-night,  Min- 
nie," she  informed  me.  "We  didn't  want  Mr.  von 
Inwald  to  have  a  wrong  idea  of  American  society, 
especially  after  Mr.  Carter's  ridiculous  conduct  this 
afternoon,  and  I  wonder  if  you'll  be  sweet  enough 
to  start  the  phonograph  in  the  orchestra  gallery  as 
we  go  in — something  with  dignity,  you  know — the 
wedding  march,  or  the  overture  from  Aida." 

"Aida's  cracked,"  I  said  shortly,  "and  as  far  as 
177 


178         WHERE   THERE'S    A   WILL 

I'm  concerned,  Mr.  von  Inwald  can  walk  in  to  his 
meals  without  music,  or  starve  to  death  waiting  for 
the  band." 

But  she  got  the  phonograph,  anyhow,  and  put  the 
elevator  boy  in  the  gallery  with  it.  She  picked  out 
some  things  by  Caruso  and  Tetrazzini  and  piled 
them  on  a  chair,  but  James  had  things  to  himself 
up  there,  and  played  The  Spring  Chicken  through 
three  times  during  dinner,  with  Miss  Cobb  glaring 
at  the  gallery  until  the  back  of  her  neck  ached,  and 
the  dining-room  girls  waltzing  in  with  the  dishes  and 
polka-ing  out. 

Mr.  Moody  came  out  when  dinner  was  over  in  a 
fearful  rage  and  made  for  the  news  stand. 

"One  of  your  ideas,  I  suppose,"  he  asserted. 
"What  sort  of  a  night  am  I  going  to  have  after 
chewing  my  food  to  rag-time,  with  my  jaws  doing  a 
skirt-dance?  Why  in  heaven's  name  couldn't  you 
have  had  something  slow,  like  Handel's  Largo,  if 
you've  got  to  have  music  ?" 

But  dinner  was  over  fifteen  minutes  sooner  than 
usual.  James  cake-walked  everybody  out  to  My 
Ann  Elizer,  and  Miss  Cobb  was  mortified  to  death. 

Two  or  three  things  happened  that  night.     For 


STOP,    THIEF!  179 

one,  I  got  a  good  look  at  Miss  Julia  Summers.  She 
was  light-haired  and  well-fleshed,  with  an  ugly  face 
but  a  pleasant  smile.  She  wore  a  low-necked  dress 
that  made  Miss  Cobb's  with  the  yoke  out  look  like  a 
storm  collar,  and  if  she  had  a  broken  heart  she  didn't 
show  it. 

"Hello,"  she  cried,  looking  at  my  hair,  "are  you 
selling  tobacco  here  or  are  you  the  cigar-lighter  ?" 

"Neither,"  I  answered,  looking  over  her  head.  "I 
am  employed  as  the  extinguisher  of  gay  guests." 

"Good,"  she  said,  smiling.  "I'm  something  fine 
at  that  myself.  Suppose  I  stay  here  and  help.  If 
I  watch  that  line  of  knitting  women  I'll  be  crotchet- 
ing  Arabella's  wool  in  my  sleep  to-night." 

Well,  she  was  too  cheerful  to  be  angry  with.  So 
she  stayed  around  for  a  while,  and  it  was  amazing 
how  much  tobacco  I  sold  that  evening.  Men  who 
usually  bought  tobies  bought  the  best  cigars,  and 
when  Mr.  Jennings  came  up,  scowling,  and  I  handed 
him  the  brand  he'd  smoked  for  years,  she  took  one, 
clipped  the  end  of  it  as  neat  as  a  finger  nail  and  gave 
it  to  him,  holding  up  the  lighter. 

"I'm  not  going  to  smoke  yet,  young  woman,"  he 
said,  glaring  at  her.  But  she  only  smiled. 


i8o 

"I'm  sorry,"  she  said.  "I've  been  waiting  hun- 
grily until  some  discriminating  smoker  would  buy 
one  of  those  and  light  it.  I  love  the  aroma." 

And  he  stood  there  for  thirty  minutes,  standing 
mostly  on  one  foot  on  account  of  the  gouty  one, 
puffing  like  a  locomotive,  with  her  sniffing  at  the 
aroma  and  telling  him  how  lonely  she  felt  with  no 
friends  around  and  just  recovering  from  a  severe 
illness.  At  eight  o'clock  he  had  Mrs.  Hutchins  bring 
him  his  fur-lined  coat  and  he  and  Miss  Julia  took 
Arabella,  the  dog,  for  a  walk  on  the  veranda ! 

The  rest  of  the  evening  was  quiet,  and  I  needed  it. 
Miss  Patty  and  Mr.  von  Inwald  talked  by  the  fire 
and  I  think  he  told  her  something — not  all — of  the 
scene  in  the  spring-house.  For  she  passed  Mr. 
Pierce  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  on  her  way  up  for  the 
night  and  she  pretended  not  to  see  him.  He  stood 
there  looking  up  after  her  with  his  mouth  set,  and  at 
the  turn  she  glanced  down  and  caught  his  eye.  I 
thought  she  flushed,  but  I  wasn't  sure,  and  at  that 
minute  Senator  Biggs  bought  three  twenty-five-cent 
cigars  and  told  me  to  keep  the  change  from  a  dollar. 
I  was  so  surprised  at  the  alteration  in  him  that  I  for- 
got Miss  Patty  entirely. 


STOP,   THIEF!  181 

About  twelve  o'clock,  just  after  I  went  to  my 
room,  somebody  knocked  at  the  door.  When  I 
opened,  the  new  doctor  was  standing  in  the  hall. 

"I'm  sorry  to  disturb  you,"  he  said,  "but  nobody 
seems  to  know  where  the  pharmacy  clerk  is  and  I'll 
have  to  get  some  medicine." 

"If  I'd  had  my  way,  we'd  have  had  a  bell  on  that 
pharmacy  clerk  long  ago,"  I  snapped,  getting  my 
keys.  "Who's  sick?" 

"The  big  man,"  he  replied.  "Biggs  is  his  name, 
I  think,  a  senator  or  something." 

I  was  leading  the  way  to  the  stairs,  but  I  stopped. 
"I  might  have  known  it,"  I  said.  "He  hasn't  been 
natural  all  evening.  What's  the  matter  with  him? 
Too  much  fast?" 

"Fast!"  He  laughed.  "Too  much  feast !  He's 
got  as  pretty  a  case  of  indigestion  as  I've  seen  for 
some  time.  He's  giving  a  demonstration  that's  al- 
most theatrical." 

Well,  he  insisted  it  was  indigestion,  although  I 
argued  that  it  wasn't  possible,  and  he  wanted  ipecac. 

"I  haven't  seen  a  pharmacopoeia  for  so  long  that  I 
wouldn't  know  one  if  I  met  it,"  he  declared,  "but 
I've  got  a  system  of  mnemonics  that  never  fails. 


182         WHERE    THERE'S   A   .WILL 

Ipecac  and  colic  both  end  with  V — I'll  never  for- 
get that  conjunction.  It  was  pounded  in  and  poured 
in  in  my  early  youth." 

Well,  the  pharmacy  was  locked,  and  we  couldn't 
find  a  key  to  fit  it.  And  when  I  suggested  mustard 
and  warm  water  he  jumped  at  the  idea. 

"Fine!"  he  said.  "Better  let  me  dish  out  the 
spring-water  and  you  take  my  job !  Lead  on,  Mac- 
Duff,  to  the  kitchen." 

Although  it  was  only  midnight  there  was  not  a 
soul  about.  A  hall  leads  back  of  the  office  to  the 
kitchen  and  pantries,  and  there  was  a  low  light 
there,  but  the  rest  was  dark.  We  bumped  through 
the  diet  kitchen  and  into  the  scullery,  when  we 
found  we  had  no  matches.  I  went  back  for  some, 
and  when  I  got  as  far  as  the  diet  kitchen  again 
Doctor  Barnes  was  there,  just  inside  the  door. 

"Sh!"  he  whispered.  "Come  into  the  scullery. 
The  kitchen  is  dark,  but  there  is  somebody  in  there, 
fumbling  around,  striking  matches.  I  suppose  you 
don't  have  such  things  as  burglars  in  this  neck  of 
the  woods?" 

Well,  somebody  had  broken  into  Timmons'  candy 
store  a  week  before  and  stolen  a  box  of  chewing- 


STOP,    THIEF!  183 

gum  and  a  hundred  post-cards,  and  I  told  him  so  in 
a  whisper. 

"Anyhow,  it  isn't  the  chef,"  I  said.  "He's  had  a 
row  with  the  bath  man  and  is  in  bed  with  a  cut 
hand  and  a  black  eye,  and  nobody  else  has  any 
business  here." 

We  tiptoed  into  the  scullery  in  the  dark:  just 
then  somebody  knocked  a  kettle  down  in  the  kitchen 
and  it  hit  the  stove  below  with  a  crash.  Whoever 
was  there  swore,  and  it  was  not  Francois,  who  ex- 
presses his  feelings  mostly  in  French.  This  was 
English. 

There's  a  little  window  from  the  kitchen  into  the 
scullery  as  well  as  a  door.  The  window  had  a 
wooden  slide  and  it  was  open  an  inch  or  so.  We 
couldn't  see  anything,  but  we  could  hear  a  man 
moving  around.  Once  he  struck  a  match,  but  it 
went  out  and  he  said  "Damn !"  again,  and  began  to 
feel  his  way  toward  the  scullery. 

Doctor  Barnes  happened  to  touch  my  hand  and 
he  patted  it  as  if  to  tell  me  not  to  be  frightened. 
Then  he  crept  toward  the  scullery  door  and  waited 
there. 

It  swung  open  slowly,  but  he  waited  until  it  closed 


i«4        WHERE   THERE'S   A   WILL 

again  and  the  man  was  in  the  room.  Then  he  yelled 
and  jumped  and  there  was  th£  sound  of  a  fall.  I 
could  hardly  strike  the  match — I  was  trembling  so — 
but  when  I  did  there  was  Mr.  Dick  lying  flat  on  the 
floor  and  the  doctor  sitting  on  him. 

"Mister  Dick !"  I  gasped,  and  dropped  the  match. 

"Something  hit  me!"  Mr.  Dick  said  feebly,  and 
when  I  had  got  a  candle  lighted  and  had  explained 
to  Doctor  Barnes  that  it  was  a  mistake,  he  got  off 
him  and  let  him  up.  He  was  as  bewildered  as  Mr. 
Dick  and  pretty  nearly  as  mad. 

We  put  him — Mr.  Dick — in  a  chair  and  gave 
him  a  glass  of  water,  and  after  he  had  got  his 
breath — the  doctor  being  a  heavy  man — he  said  he 
was  trying  to  find  something  to  eat. 

"Confound  it,  Minnie,"  he  exclaimed,  "we're 
starving !  It  seems  to  me  there  are  enough  of  you 
here  at  least  to  see  that  we  are  fed.  Not  a  bite  since 
lunch!" 

"But  I  thought  you  had  the  basket,"  I  explained. 
"I  left  it  at  the  spring-house,  and  when  I  went  back 
it  was  gone." 

"So  that  was  it !"  he  answered.  And  then  he  ex- 
plained that  just  about  the  time  they  expected  their 


STOP,    THIEF!  185 

supper  they  saw  a  man  carry  a  basket  stealthily 
through  the  snow  to  the  deer  park.  It  was  twilight, 
but  they  watched  him  from  the  window,  and  he  put 
the  basket  through  the  barbed-wire  fence  and  then 
crawled  after  it.  Just  inside  he  sat  down  on  a  log 
and,  opening  the  basket,  began  to  eat.  He  was  still 
there  when  it  got  too  dark  to  see  him, 

"If  that  was  our  dinner,"  he  finished  savagely,  "I 
hope  he  choked  to  death  over  it." 

Doctor  Barnes  chuckled.  "He  didn't,"  he  said, 
"but  he's  got  the  worst  case  of  indigestion  in  seven 
counties." 

Well,  I  got  the  mustard  and  water  ready  with 
Mr.  Dick  standing  by  hoping  Mr.  Biggs  would  die 
before  he  got  it,  and  then  I  filled  a  basket  for  the 
shelter-house.  I  put  out  the  light  and  he  took  the 
basket  and  started  out,  but  he  came  back  in  a  hurry. 

"There's  somebody  outside  talking,"  he  said.  I 
went  to  the  door  with  him  and  listened. 

"The  sooner  the  better,"  Mike  was  saying.  "I'm 
no  good  while  I've  got  it  on  my  mind." 

And  Mr.  Thoburn :  "To-morrow  is  too  soon  : 
they're  not  in  the  mood  yet.  Perhaps  the  day  after. 
I'll  let  you  know." 


1 86         WHERE   THERE'S    A    WILL 

I  didn't  get  to  sleep  until  almost  morning,  and 
then  it  was  to  dream  that  Mr.  Pierce  was  shouting 
"Hypocrites"  to  all  the  people  in  the  sanatorium 
and  threatening  to  throw  glasses  of  mustard  and 
warm  water  at  them. 


CHAPTER   XVII 

A   BUNCH   OF  LETTERS 

WHEN  people  went  down  to  breakfast  the 
next  morning  they  found  a  card  hanging  on 
the  office  door  with  a  half  dozen  new  rules  on  it, 
and  when  I  went  out  to  the  spring-house  the  guests 
were  having  an  indignation  meeting  in  the  sun  par- 
lor, with  the  bishop  in  the  chair,  and  Senator  Biggs, 
so  wobbly  he  could  hardly  stand,  making  a  speech. 

I  tried  to  see  Mr.  Pierce,  but  early  as  it  was  he 
had  gone  for  a  walk,  taking  Arabella  with  him.  So 
I  called  a  conference  at  the  shelter-house — Miss 
Patty,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Van  Alstyne,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Dick,  and  myself.  Mrs.  Dick  wasn't  dressed,  but 
she  sat  up  on  the  edge  of  her  cot  in  her  dressing- 
gown,  with  her  feet  on  the  soap  box,  and  yawned. 
As  we  didn't  have  enough  chairs,  Miss  Patty  jerked 
the  soap  box  away  and  made  me  sit  down.  Mr. 
Dick  was  getting  breakfast. 

We  were  in  a  tight  place  and  we  knew  it. 
187 


1 88         WHERE    THERE'S    A    WILL 

"He  is  making  it  as  hard  for  us  as  he  can,"  Mrs* 
Sam  declared.  "The  idea  of  having  the  card-room 
lights  put  out  at  midnight,  and  the  breakfast  room 
closed  at  ten !  Nobody  gets  up  at  that  hour." 

"He  was  to  come  here  every  evening  for  orders," 
said  Mr.  Dick,  measuring  ground  coffee  with  a 
tablespoon,  as  I  had  showed  him.  "He  came  just 
once,  and  as  for  orders — well,  he  gave  'em  to  me!" 

But  Miss  Patty  was  always  fair. 

"I  loathe  him,"  she  asserted.  "I  want  to  quarrel 
with  him  the  minute  I  see  him.  He — he  is  pre- 
sumptuous to  the  point  of  impertinence — but  he's 
honest :  he  thinks  we're  all  hypocrites — those  that 
are  well  and  those  that  are  sick  or  think  they  are — 
and  he  hates  hypocrisy." 

Everybody  talked  at  once,  then,  and  she  listened. 

"Very  well,"  she  said.  "I'll  amend  it.  We're 
not  all  hypocrites.  My  motives  in  all  this  are  per- 
fectly clear — and  selfish." 

"You  and  old  Pierce  would  make  a  fine  team, 
Pat,"  Mrs.  Dick  remarked  with  a  yawn.  "I  like 
hypocrites  myself.  They're  so  comfy.  But  if 
you're  not  above  advice.  Pat,  you'll  have  Aunt 
Honoria  break  her  neck  or  something — anything  to 


A   BUNCH    OF   LETTERS 

get  father  back  to  town.  Something  is  going  to  ex- 
plode, and  Oskar  doesn't  like  to  be  agitated." 

She  curled  up  on  the  cot  with  that  and  went  sound 
asleep.  The  rest  of  us  had  coffee  and  talked,  but 
there  wasn't  anything  to  do.  As  Mr.  Sam  said,  Mr. 
Pierce  didn't  want  to  stay,  anyhow,  and  as  likely  as 
not  if  we  went  to  him  in  a  body  and  told  him  he 
must  come  to  the  shelter-house  for  instructions,  and 
be  suave  and  gentle  when  he  was  called  down  by  the 
guests  about  the  steam-pipes  making  a  racket,  he'd 
probably  prefer  to  go  down  to  the  village  and  take 
Doctor  Barnes'  place  washing  dishes  at  the  station. 
That  wouldn't  call  for  any  particular  mildness. 

But  he  settled  it  by  appearing  himself.  He  came 
across  the  snow  from  the  direction  of  Mount  Hope, 
and  he  had  a  pair  of  skees  over  his  shoulder.  (At 
that  time  I  didn't  even  know  the  name  of  the  things, 
but  I  learned  enough  about  them  later. )  I  must  say 
he  looked  very  well  beside  Mr.  Dick,  who  wasn't 
very  large,  anyhow,  and  who  hadn't  had  time  to  put 
on  his  collar,  and  Mr.  Sam,  who's  always  thin  and 
sallow  and  never  takes  a  step  he  doesn't  have  to. 

I  let  him  in,  and  when  he  saw  us  all  there  he 
started  and  hesitated. 


190         WHERE   THERE'S    A    WILL 

"Come  in,  Pierce,"  Mr.  Sam  said.  "We've  just 
been  talking  about  you." 

He  came  in,  but  he  didn't  look  very  comfortable. 

"What  have  you  decided  to  do  with  me?"  he 
asked.  "Put  me  under  restraint  ?" 

He  was  unbuttoning  his  sweater,  and  now  he  took 
out  two  of  the  smallest  rabbits  I  ever  saw  and  held 
them  up  by  the  ears.  Miss  Patty  gave  a  little  cry 
and  took  them,  cuddling  them  in  her  lap. 

"They're  starving  and  almost  frozen,  poor  little 
devils,"  he  said.  "I  found  them  near  where  I  shot 
the  mother  last  night,  Minnie,  and  by  way  of  atone- 
ment I'm  going  to  adopt  them." 

Well,  although  the  minute  before  they'd  all  been 
wishing  they'd  never  seen  him,  they  pretty  nearly 
ate  him  up.  Miss  Patty  held  the  rabbits,  so  we  all 
had  turns  at  feeding  them  warm  milk  with  a  tea- 
spoon and  patting  their  pink  noses.  When  it  came 
Mr.  Pierce's  turn  they  were  about  full  up,  so  he 
curled  his  big  body  on  the  floor  at  Miss  Patty's  feet 
and  talked  to  the  rabbits  and  looked  at  her.  He 
had  one  of  those  faces  that's  got  every  emotion 
marked  on  it  as  clear  as  a  barometer — when  he  was 
mad  his  face  was  mad  all  over,  and  when  he  was 


A   BUNCH    OF   LETTERS 

pleased  he  glowed  to  the  tips  of  his  ears.  And  he 
was  pleased  that  morning. 

But,  of  course,  he  had  to  be  set  right  about  the 
sanatorium,  and  Mr.  Sam  began  it.  Mr.  Pierce  lis- 
tened, sitting  on  the  floor  and  looking  puzzled  and 
more  and  more  unhappy.  Finally  he  got  up  and 
drew  a  long  breath. 

"Exactly,"  he  agreed.  "I  know  you  are  all  right 
and  I'm  wrong — according  to  your  way  of  thinking. 
But  if  these  people  want  to  be  well,  why  should  I 
encourage  them  to  do  the  wrong  thing?  They  eat 
too  much,  they  don't  exercise" — he  turned  to  Mr. 
Van  Alstyne.  "Why,  do  you  know,  I  asked  a  half 
dozen  of  the  men — one  after  the  other — to  go  skee- 
ing  with  me  this  morning  and  not  one  of  them  ac- 
cepted !" 

"Really !"  Mr.  Sam  exclaimed  mockingly. 

"What  can  you  do  with  people  like  that?"  Mr. 
Pierce  went  on.  "They  don't  want  to  be  well; 
they're  all  hypocrites.  Look  at  that  man  Biggs !  I'll 
lay  you  ten  to  one  that  after  fasting  five  days  and 
then  stealing  a  whole  chicken,  a  dozen  oysters  and 
Lord  knows  what  else,  now  that  he's  sick,  he'll  hold 
it  against  me." 


192         WHERE   THERE'S   A   WILL 

"He's  not  holding  anything,"  I  objected. 

"Because  he  is  a  hypocrite — "  Mr.  Sam  began. 

"That's  not  the  point,  Pierce,"  Mr.  Dick  broke  in 
importantly.  "You  were  to  come  here  for  orders 
and  you  haven't  done  it.  You're  running  this  place 
for  me,  not  for  yourself." 

Mr.  Pierce  looked  at  Mr.  Dick  and  from  there  to 
Mr.  Sam  and  smiled. 

"I  did  come,"  he  explained.  "I  came  twice,  and 
each  time  we  played  roulette.  I  lost  all  the  money 
I'd  had  in  advance.  Honestly,"  he  confessed,  "I 
felt  I  couldn't  afford  to  come  every  day." 

Miss  Patty  got  up  and  put  the  baby  rabbits  into 
her  sister's  big  fur  muff. 

"We  are  all  talking  around  the  question,"  she 
said.  "Mr.  Pierce  undertook  to  manage  the  sana- 
torium, and  to  try  to  manage  it  successfully.  He 
can  not  do  that  without  making  some  attempt  at 
conciliating  the  people.  It's — it's  absurd  to  antag- 
onize them." 

"Exactly,"  he  said  coldly.  "I  was  to  manage  it, 
and  to  try  to  do  it  successfully.  I'm  sorry  my 
methods  don't  meet  with  the  approval  of  this — er — 


A   BUNCH   OF  LETTERS  193 

executive  committee.  But  it  might  as  well  be  clear 
that  I  intend  to  use  my  own  methods — or  none." 

Well,  what  could  we  do?  Miss  Patty  went  out 
with  her  head  up,  and  the  rest  of  us  stayed  and  ate 
humble  pie,  and  after  a  while  he  agreed  to  stay  if  he 
wasn't  interfered  with.  He  said  he  and  Doctor 
Barnes  had  a  plan  that  he  thought  was  a  winner — 
that  it  would  either  make  or  break  the  place,  and  he 
thought  it  would  make  it.  And  by  that  time  we 
were  so  meek  that  we  didn't  even  ask  what  it  was. 

Doctor  Barnes  and  Miss  Summers  were  the  first 
to  come  to  the  mineral  spring  that  morning.  She 
stopped  just  inside  the  door  and  sniffed. 

"Something's  dead  under  the  floor,"  she  said. 

"If  there's  anything  dead,"  Doctor  Barnes  replied, 
"it's  in  the  center  of  the  earth.  That's  the  sulphur 
water." 

She  came  in  at  that,  but  unwillingly,  and  sat  down 
with  her  handkerchief  to  her  nose.  Then  she 
saw  me. 

"Good  gracious!"  she  exclaimed.  "What  have 
you  done  that  they  put  you  here?" 

"If  you  mean  the  bouquet  from  the  spring,  you 


i94         WHERE   THERE'S    A   tWILL 

get  to  like  it  after  a  while,"  I  said  grimly.  "Ordi- 
nary air  hasn't  got  any  snap  for  me  now." 

"Humph !"  She  looked  at  me  suspiciously,  but  I 
was  busy  wiping  off  the  tables.  "Well,"  she  said, 
holding  up  the  glass  Doctor  Barnes  had  brought  her, 
"it  doesn't  cost  me  anything,  so  here  goes.  But 
think  of  paying  money  for  it !" 

She  drank  it  down  in  a  gulp  and  settled  herself  in 
her  chair. 

"What'll  it  do  to  me  ?"  she  asked.  "Mixed  drinks 
always  play  the  deuce  with  me,  Barnes,  and  you 
know  it." 

"If  you'll  cut  down  your  diet  and  take  some  exer- 
cise it  will  make  you  thin,"  I  began.  "  'The  process 
is  painless  and  certain :  kindly  nature  in  her  benevo- 
lent plan — '  " 

"Give  me  another!"  she  interrupted,  and  Doctor 
Barnes  filled  her  glass  again.  "Some  women  spell 
fate  f-a-t-e,"  she  said,  looking  at  the  water,  "but  I 
spell  it  without  the  e." 

She  took  half  of  it  and  then  put  down  the  glass. 
"Honestly,"  she  declared,  "I'd  rather  be  fat." 

Mr.  Pierce  met  them  there  a  few  minutes  later 
and  they  had  a  three-cornered  chat.  But  Miss  Sum- 


A   BUNCH    OF   LETTERS  195 

mers  evidently  didn't  know  just  how  much  I  knew 
and  was  careful  of  what  she  said.  Once,  however, 
when  I  was  in  the  pantry  she  thought  I  was  beyond 
ear-shot. 

"Good  heavens,  Pierce,"  she  said,  "if  they  could 
put  that  in  a  play !" 

"Cut  it  out,  Julia,"  Doctor  Barnes  snapped,  and 
it  wasn't  until  they  had  gone  that  I  knew  she'd  meant 
me.  I  looked  through  the  crack  of  the  door  and 
she  was  leaning  over  taking  a  puff  at  Doctor  Barnes' 
cigarette. 

"Curious  old  world,  isn't  it?"  she  said  between 
puffs.  "Here  we  are — the  three  of  us — snug  and 
nice,  having  seven  kinds  of  hell-fire  water  and  not 
having  to  pay  for  it;  three  meals  a  day  and  after- 
noon tea  ditto,  good  beds  and  steam-heat  ditto — and 
four  days  ago  where  were  we?  Pierce,  you  were 
hocking  your  clothes !  Doc,  you— 

"Washing  dishes!"  he  said.  "I  never  knew  be- 
fore how  extravagant  it  is  to  have  a  saucer  under  a 
cup!" 

"And  I!"  she  went  on,  "I,  Julia  Summers,  was 
staring  at  a  ceiling  in  the  Finleyville  hotel,  with  a 
face  that  looked  like  a  toy  balloon." 


i96         WHERE   THERE'S    A   WILL 

"And  now,"  said  Doctor  Barnes,  "you  are  more 
beautiful  than  ever.  I  am  a  successful  physician — 
oh,  lord,  Julia,  if  you'd  hear  me  faking  lines  in  my 
part!  And  my  young  friend  here — Pierce — Julia, 
Pierce  has  now  become  a  young  reprobate  named 
Dicky  Carter,  and  may  the  Lord  have  mercy  on 
his  soul!" 

I  tried  to  get  out  in  time,  but  I  was  too  late.  I 
saw  her  rise,  saw  the  glass  of  water  at  her  elbow 
roll  over  and  smash  on  the  floor,  and  saw  her  clutch 
wildly  at  Mr.  Pierce's  shoulder. 

"Not — not  Dicky  Carter !"  she  cried. 

"Richard — they  call  him  Dick,"  Mr.  Pierce  said 
uneasily,  and  loosened  her  fingers  from  his  coat. 

Oh,  well,  everybody  knows  it  now — how  she 
called  Mr.  Dick  everything  in  the  calendar,  and  then 
began  to  cry  and  said  nobody  would  ever  know 
what  she'd  been  through  with,  and  the  very  dress 
she  had  on  was  a  part  of  the  trousseau  she'd  had 
made,  and  what  with  the  dressmaker's  bills —  Sud- 
denly she  stopped  crying. 

"Where  is  he,  anyhow  ?"  she  demanded. 

"All  we  are  sure  of,"  Mr.  Pierce  replied  quietly, 
"is  that  he  is  not  in  the  sanatorium." 


A   BUNCH   OF  LETTERS  197 

She  looked  at  us  all  closely,  but  she  got  nothing 
from  my  face. 

"Oh,  very  well,"  she  said,  shrugging  her  shoul- 
ders, "I'll  wait  until  he  shows  up.  It  doesn't  cost 
anything." 

Then,  with  one  of  her  easy  changes,  she  laughed 
and  picked  up  her  muff  to  go. 

"Minnie  and  I,"  she  said,  "will  tend  bar  here,  and 
in  our  leisure  moments  we  will  pour  sulphur  water 
on  a  bunch  of  Dicky's  letters  that  I  have,  to  cool 
'em."  She  walked  to  the  door  and  turned  around, 
smiling. 

"Carry  fire  insurance  on  'em  all  the  time,"  she 
finished  and  went  out,  leaving  us  staring  at  one  an- 
other. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 
MISS  COBB'S  BURGLAR 

IiWENT  to  bed  early  that  night.  What  with 
worrying  and  being  alternately  chilled  by 
tramping  through  the  snow  and  roasted  as  if  I  was 
sitting  on  a  volcano  with  an  eruption  due,  I  was 
about  all  in.  We'd  been  obliged  to  tell  Mrs.  Sam 
about  the  Summers  woman,  and  I  had  to  put  hot 
flannels  on  her  from  nine  to  ten.  She  was  quieter 
when  I  left  her,  but,  as  I  told  Mr.  Sam,  it  was  the 
stillness  of  despair,  not  resignation. 

I  guess  it  was  about  four  o'clock  in  the  morning 
when  a  hand  slid  over  my  face,  and  I  sat  up  and 
yelled.  The  hand  covered  my  mouth  at  that,  and 
something  long  and  white  and  very  thin  beside  the 
bed  said :  "Sh !  For  heaven's  sake,  Minnie !" 

It  was  Miss  Cobb!  It  was  lucky  I  came  to  my 
senses  when  I  did,  for  her  knees  gave  way  under  her 

198 


MISS   COBB'S   BURGLAR  199 

just  then  and  she  doubled  up  on  the  floor  beside  the 
bed  with  her  face  in  my  comfort. 

I  lighted  a  candle  and  set  it  on  a  chair  beside  the 
bed  and  took  a  good  look  at  her.  She  was  shaking 
all  over,  which  wasn't  strange,  for  I  sleep  with  my 
window  operand  she  had  a  key  in  her  hand. 

"Here,"  she  gasped,  holding  out  the  key,  "here, 
Minnie,  wake  the  house  and  get  him,  but,  oh,Minnie, 
for  heaven's  sake,  save  my  reputation!" 

"Get  who?"  I  demanded,  for  I  saw  it  was  her 
room  key. 

"I  have  been  coming  here  for  ten  years,"  she 
groaned,  out  of  the  comfort,  "and  now,  to  be  ban- 
died about  by  the  cold  breath  of  scandal !" 

I  shook  her  by  the  shoulder 

"The  cold  breath  you  are  raving  about  is  four 
degrees  below  zero.  If  you  can't  tell  me  what's  the 
matter  I'm  going  back  to  bed  and  cover  my  feet." 

She  got  up  at  that  and  stood  swaying,  with  her 
nightgown  flapping  around  her  like  a  tent. 

"I  have  locked  a  man  in  my  room!"  she  declared 
in  a  terrible  voice,  and  collapsed  into  the  middle  of 
the  bed. 

Well,  I  leaned  over  and  tried  to  tell  her  she'd  made 


2OO 

a  mistake.  The  more  I  looked  at  her,  with  her  hair 
standing  straight  out  over  her  head,  and  her  cambric 
nightgown  with  a  high  collar  and  long  sleeves,  and 
the  hump  on  her  nose  where  her  brother  Willie  had 
hit  her  in  childhood  with  a  baseball  bat,  the  surer  I 
was  that  somebody  had  made  a  mistake — likely  the 
man. 

Now  there's  two  ways  to  handle  a  situation  like 
that :  one  of  them  is  to  rouse  the  house — and  many  a 
good  sanatorium  has  been  hurt  by  a  scandal  and 
killed  by  a  divorce;  the  other  way  is  to  take  one 
strong  man  who  can  hold  his  tongue,  find  the  guilty 
person,  and  send  him  a  fake  telegram  the  next 
morning  that  his  mother  is  sick.  I've  done  that 
more  than  once. 

I  sat  down  on  the  side  of  the  bed  and  put  on  my 
slippers." 

"What  did  he  look  like  ?"  I  asked.  "Could  you 
see  him?" 

She  uncovered  one  eye. 

"Not — not  distinctly,"  she  said.  "I — think  he 
was  large,  and — and  rather  handsome.  That  beast 
of  a  dog  must  have  got  in  my  room  and  was  asleep 
under  the  bed,  for  it  wakened  me  by  snarling/' 


MISS    COBB'S   BURGLAR  2Of 

There  was  nothing  in  that  to  make  me  nervous, 
but  it  did.  As  I  put  on  my  kimono  I  was  thinking 
pretty  hard. 

I  could  not  waken  Mr.  Pierce  by  knocking,  so  I 
went  in  and  shook  him.  He  was  sound  asleep,  with 
his  arms  over  his  head,  and  when  I  caught  his  shoul- 
der he  just  took  my  hand  and,  turning  over,  tucked 
it  under  his  cheek  and  went  asleep  again. 

"Mr.  Pierce !  Mr.  Pierce !"  He  wakened  a  little 
at  that,  but  not  enough  to  open  his  eyes.  He  seemed 
to  know  that  the  hand  wasn't  his,  however,  for  he 
kissed  it.  And  with  that  I  slapped  him  and  he 
wakened.  He  lay  there  blinking  at  my  candle  and 
then  he  yawned. 

"Musht  have  been  ashleep!"  he  said,  and  turned 
over  on  his  other  side  and  shut  his  eyes. 

It  was  two  or  three  minutes  at  least  before  I  had 
him  sitting  on  the  side  of  the  bed,  with  a  blanket 
spread  over  his  knees,  and  was  telling  him  about  Miss 
Cobb. 

"Miss  Cobb!"  he  said.  "Oh,  heavens,  Minnie, 
tell  her  to  go  back  to  bed!"  He  yawned.  "If 
there's  anybody  there  it's  a  mistake.  I'm  sleepy. 
What  time  is  it?" 


202         WHERE   THERE'S   A   .WILL 

"I'm  not  going  out  of  this  room  until  you  get 
up !"  I  declared  grimly. 

"Oh,  very  well!"  he  said,  and  put  his  feet  back 
into  bed.  "If  you  think  I'm  going  to  get  up  while 
you're  here — " 

After  he  seemed  pretty  well  wakened  I  went  out. 
I  waited  in  the  sitting-room  and  I  heard  him  growl- 
ing as  he  put  on  his  clothes.  When  he  came  out, 
however,  he  was  more  cheerful,  and  he  stopped  in 
the  hall  to  fish  a  case  out  of  Mr.  Sam's  dressing- 
gown  pocket  and  light  a  cigarette. 

"Now !"  he  said,  taking  my  arm.  "Forward,  the 
light-ly  clad  brigade!  But — "  he  stopped — "Min- 
nie, we  are  unarmed !  Shall  I  get  the  patent  folding 
corkscrew  ?" 

He  had  to  be  quiet  when  we  got  to  the  bedroom 
floors,  however,  and  when  we  stopped  outside  Miss 
Cobb's  door  he  was  as  sober  as  any  one  could  wish 
him. 

"You  needn't  come  in,"  he  whispered.  "Ten  to 
one  she  dreamed  it,  but  if  she  didn't  you're  better 
outside.  And  whatever  you  hear,  don't  yell." 

I  gave  him  the  key  and  he  fitted  it  quietly  in  the 
lock.  Arabella,  just  inside,  must  have  heard,  for 


MISS    COBB'S   BURGLAR  203 

she  snarled.  But  the  snarl  turned  into  a  yelp,  as  if 
she'd  been  suddenly  kicked. 

Mr.  Pierce,  with  his  hand  on  the  knob,  turned  and 
looked  at  me  in  the  candle-light.  Then  he  opened 
the  door. 

Arabella  gave  another  yelp  and  rushed  out;  she 
went  between  my  feet  like  a  shot  and  almost  over- 
threw me,  and  when  I'd  got  my  balance  again  I 
looked  into  the  room.  Mr.  Pierce  was  at  the  win- 
dow, staring  out,  and  the  room  was  empty. 

"The  idiot!"  Mr.  Pierce  said.  "If  it  hadn't  been 
for  that  snow-bank !  Here,  give  me  that  candle !" 

He  stood  there  waving  it  in  circles,  but  there  was 
neither  sight  nor  sound  from  below.  After  a  min- 
ute Mr.  Pierce  put  the  window  down  and  we  stared 
at  the  room.  All  the  bureau  drawers  were  out  on 
the  floor,  and  the  lid  of  poor  Miss  Cobb's  trunk  was 
open  and  the  tray  upset.  But  her  silver-backed 
brush  was  still  on  the  bureau  and  the  ring  the  insur- 
ance agent  had  given  her  lay  beside  it. 

We  brought  her  back  to  her  room,  and  she  didn't 
know  whether  to  be  happy  that  she  was  vindicated 
or  mad  at  the  state  her  things  were  in.  I  tucked 
her  up  in  bed  after  she'd  gone  over  her  belongings 


204         WHERE   THERE'S    A   WILL 

and  Mr.  Pierce  had  double-locked  the  window  and 
gone  out.  She  drew  my  head  down  to  her  and  her 
eyes  were  fairly  popping  out  of  her  head. 

"I  feel  as  though  I'm  going  crazy,  Minnie !"  she 
whispered,  "but  the  only  things  that  are  gone  are  my 
letters  from  Mr.  Jones,  and — my  black  woolen 
tights!" 


CHAPTER  XIX 

NO   MARRIAGE  IN    HEAVEN 

I    SLEPT  late  the  next  morning,  and  when  I'd 
had  breakfast  and  waded  to  the  spring-house  it 
Was  nearly  nine.     It  was  still  snowing,  and  no  pa- 
pers or  mail  had  got  through,  although  the  wires 
were  still  in  fair  working  order. 

As  I  floundered  out  I  thought  I  saw  somebody 
slink  around  the  corner  of  the  spring-house,  but 
when  I  got  there  nobody  was  in  sight.  I  was  on 
my  knees  in  front  of  the  fireplace,  raking  out  the 
fire,  when  I  heard  the  door  close  behind  me,  and 
when  I  turned,  there  stood  Mr.  Dick,  muffled  to  the 
neck,  with  his  hat  almost  over  his  face. 

"What  the  deuce  kept  you  so  late  this  morning?" 
he  demanded,  in  a  sulky  voice,  and  limping  over  to 
a  table  he  drew  a  package  out  of  his  pocket  and 
slammed  it  on  the  table. 

"I  was  up  half  the  night,  as  usual,"  I  said,  rising. 
"You  oughtn't  to  be  here,  Mr.  Dick!" 

205 


206         WHERE    THERE'S    A   .WILL 

He  caught  hold  of  the  rail  around  the  spring,  and 
hobbling  about,  dropped  into  a  chair  with  a  groan. 

"For  two  cents,"  he  declared,  "I'd  chop  a  hole  in 
the  ice  pond  and  drown  myself.  There's  no  mar- 
riage in  Heaven." 

"That's  no  argument  for  the  other  place,"  I  an- 
swered, and  stopped,  staring.  He  was  pulling  some- 
thing out  of  his  overcoat  pocket,  an  inch  at  a  time. 

"For  God's  sake,  Minnie,"  he  exclaimed,  "return 
this — this  garment  to — whomever  it  belongs  to !" 

He  handed  it  to  me,  and  it  was  Miss  Cobb's  black 
tights !  I  stood  and  stared. 

"And  then,"  he  went  on,  reaching  for  the  pack- 
age on  the  table,  "when  you've  done  that,  return  to 
'Binkie'  these  letters  from  her  Jonesie." 

He  took  the  newspaper  off  the  bundle  then,  and 
I  saw  it  was  wrapped  with  a  lavender  ribbon.  I  sat 
down  and  gazed  at  him,  fascinated.  He  was  the 
saddest-eyed  piece  of  remorse  I'd  seen  for  a  long 
time. 

"And  when  you've  got  your  breath  back,  Minnie," 
he  said  feebly,  "and  your  strength,  would  you  mind 
taking  the  floor  mop  and  hitting  me  a  few  cracks? 
Only  not  on  the  right  leg,  Minnie — not  on  the  right 


NO   MARRIAGE   IN   HEAVEN       207 

leg.  I  landed  on  it  last  night;  it's  twisted  like  a 
pretzel." 

"Don't  stand  and  stare,"  he  continued  irritably, 
when  I  didn't  make  a  move,  "at  least  get  that — that 
infernal  black  garment  out  of  sight.  Cover  it  with 
the  newspaper.  And  if  you  don't  believe  that  a 
sweet-faced  young  girl  like  my  wife  has  a  positive 
talent  for  wickedness  and  suspicion,  go  out  to  the 
shelter-house  this  morning." 

"So  it  was  you !"  I  gasped,  putting  the  newspaper 
over  the  tights.  "Why  in  the  name  of  peace  did 
you  jump  out  the  window,  and  what  did  you  want 
with — with  these  things?" 

He  twisted  around  in  his  chair  to  stare  at  me,  and 
then  suddenly  stooped  and  clutched  frantically  at 
his  leg. 

"Want  with  those  things!"  he  snarled.  "I  sup- 
pose you  can't  understand  that  a  man  might  wake  up 
in  the  middle  of  the  night  with  a  mad  craving  for  a 
pair  of  black  woolen  tights,  and — " 

"You  needn't  be  sarcastic  with  me,"  I  broke  in. 
"You  can  save  that  for  your  wife.  I  suppose  you 
also  had  a  wild  longing  for  the  love-letters  of  aji  in- 
surance agent — " 


208         WHERE   THERE'S    A   WILL 

And  then  it  dawned  on  me,  and  I  sat  down  and 
laughed  until  I  cried. 

"And  you  thought  you  were  stealing  your  own 
letters!"  I  cried.  "The  ones  she  carries  fire  insur- 
ance on!  Oh,  Mr.  Dick,  Mr.  Dick!" 

"How  was  I  to  know  it  wasn't  Ju — Miss  Sum- 
mers' room?"  he  demanded  angrily.  "Didn't  I  fol- 
low the  dratted  dog?  And  wouldn't  you  have 
thought  the  wretched  beast  would  have  known  me 
instead  of  sitting  on  its  tail  under  the  bed  and  yell- 
ing for  mother?  I  gave  her  the  dog  myself.  Oh, 
I  tell  you,  Minnie,  if  I  ever  get  away  from  this 
place — " 

"You've  got  to  get  away  this  minute,"  I  broke  in, 
remembering.  "They'll  be  coming  any  instant  now." 

He  got  up  and  looked  around  him  helplessly. 

"Where'll  I  go?"  he  asked.  "I  can't  go  back  to 
the  shelter-house." 

I  looked  at  him  and  he  tried  to  grin. 

"Fact,"  he  said,  "hard  to  believe,  but — fact,  Min- 
nie. She's  got  the  door  locked.  Didn't  I  tell  you 
she  is  of  a  suspicious  nature  ?  She  was  asleep  when 
I  left,  and  mostly  she  sleeps  all  night.  And  just 
because  she  wakes  when  I'm  out,  and  lets  me  come 


NO   MARRIAGE    IN    HEAVEN       209 

in  thinking  she's  asleep,  when  she  has  one  eye  open 
all  the  time,  and  she  sees  what  I'd  never  even  seen 
myself — that  the  string  of  that  damned  garment, 
whatever  it  is,  is  fastened  to  the  hook  of  my  shoe, 
me  thinking  all  the  time  that  the  weight  was  because 
I'd  broken  my  leg  jumping — doesn't  she  suddenly 
sit  up  and  ask  me  where  .I've  been  ?  And  I — I'm 
unsuspicious,  Minnie,  by  nature,  and  I  said  I'd  been 
asleep.  Then  she  jumped  up  and  showed  me  that — • 
that  thing — those  things,  hanging  to  my  shoe,  and 
she  hasn't  spoken  to  me  since.  I  wish  I  was  dead." 

And  just  then  a  dog  barked  outside  and  somebody 
on  the  step  stamped  the  snow  off  his  feet.  We  were 
both  paralyzed  for  a  moment. 

"Julia !"  Mr.  Dick  cried,  and  went  white. 

I  made  a  leap  for  the  door,  just  as  the  handle 
turned,  and  put  my  back  against  it. 

"Just  a  minute,"  I  called.  "The  carpet  is  caught 
under  it!" 

Mr.  Dick  had  lost  his  head  and  was  making  for 
the  spring,  as  if  he  thought  hiding  his  feet  would 
conceal  him.  I  made  frantic  gestures  to  him  to  go 
into  my  pantry,  and  he  went  at  last,  leaving  his  hat 
on  the  table.  I  left  the  door  and  flung  it  after  him 


210         WHERE   THERE'S    A   WILL 

— the  hat,  of  course,  not  the  door — and  when  Miss 
Summers  sauntered  in  just  after,  I  was  on  my  knees 
brushing  the  hearth,  with  my  heart  going  three- 
four  time  and  skipping  every  sixth  beat. 

"Hello!"  she  said.  "Lovely  weather — for  polar 
bears.  If  the  natives  wade  through  this  all  winter 
it's  no  wonder  they  walk  as  if  they  are  ham-strung. 
Don't  bother  getting  me  a  glass.  I'll  get  my  own." 

She  was  making  for  the  pantry  when  I  caught  her, 
and  I  guess  I  looked  pretty  wild. 

"I'll  get  it,"  I  said.    "I— that's  one  of  the  rules." 

She  put  her  hands  in  the  pockets  of  her  white 
sweater  and  smiled  at  me. 

"Do  you  know,"  she  declared,  "the  old  ladies' 
knitting  society  isn't  so  far  wrong  about  you! 
About  your  making  rules — whatever  you  want, 
whenever  you  want  'em." 

She  put  her  head  on  one  side. 

"Now,"  she  went  on,  "suppose  I  break  that  rule 
and  get  my  own  glass?  What  happens  to  me?  I 
don't  think  I'll  be  put  out !" 

I  threw  up  my  hands  in  despair,  for  I  was  about 
at  the  end  of  my  string. 

"Get  it  then!"  I  exclaimed,  and  sat  down,  wait- 


NO   MARRIAGE   IN   HEAVEN       211 

ing  for  the  volcano  to  erupt.  But  she  only  laughed 
and  sat  down  on  a  table,  swinging  her  feet. 

"When  you  know  me  better,  Minnie,"  she  said, 
"you'll  know  I  don't  spoil  sport.  I  happen  to  know 
you  have  somebody  in  the  pantry — moreover,  I 
know  it's  a  man.  There  are  tracks  on  the  little 
porch,  my  dear  girl,  not  made  by  your  galoshes. 
Also,  my  dearest  girl,  there's  a  gentleman's  glove  by 
your  chair  there!"  I  put  my  foot  on  it.  "And 
just  to  show  you  what  a  good  fellow  I  am — " 

She  got  off  the  table,  still  smiling,  and  sauntered 
to  the  pantry  door,  watching  me  over  her  shoulder. 

"Don't  be  alarmed !"  she  called  through  the  door, 
"I'm  not  coming  in !  I  shall  take  my  little  drink  of 
nature's  benevolent  remedy  out  of  the  tin  ladle,  and 
then — I  shall  take  my  departure!" 

My  heart  was  skipping  every  second  beat  by  that 
time,  and  Miss  Julia  stood  by  the  pantry  door,  her 
head  back  and  her  eyes  almost  closed,  enjoying 
every  minute  of  it.  If  Arabella  hadn't  made  a  di- 
version just  then  I  think  I'd  have  fainted. 

She'd  pulled  the  newspaper  and  the  tights  off  the 
table  and  was  running  around  the  room  with  them, 
one  leg  in  her  mouth. 


212         WHERE   THERE'S    A   WILL 

"Stop  it,  Arabella!"  said  Miss  Julia,  and  took 
the  tights  from  her.  "Yours  ?"  she  asked,  with  her 
eyebrows  raised. 

"No — yes,"  I  answered. 

"I'd  never  have  suspected  you  of  them !"  she  re- 
marked. "Hardly  sheer  enough  to  pull  through 
a  finger  ring,  are  they?"  She  held  them  up  and 
gazed  at  them  meditatively.  "That's  one  thing  I 
draw  the  line  at.  On  the  boards,  you  know — never 
have  worn  'em  and  never  will.  They're  not  modest, 
to  my  mind, — and,  anyhow,  I'm  too  fat !" 

Mr.  Sam  and  his  wife  came  in  at  that  moment, 
Mr.  Sam  carrying  a  bottle  of  wine  for  the  shelter- 
house,  wrapped  in  a  paper,  and  two  cans  of  some- 
thing or  other.  He  was  too  busy  trying  to  make  the 
bottle  look  like  something  else — which  a  good  many 
people  have  tried  and  failed  at — to  notice  what  Miss 
Summers  was  doing,  and  she  had  Miss  Cobb's  pro- 
tectors stuffed  in  her  muff  and  was  standing  very 
dignified  in  front  of  the  fire  by  the  time  they'd 
shaken  off  the  snow. 

"Good  morning!"  she  said. 

"Morning !"  said  Mr.  Sam,  hanging  up  his  over- 
coat with  one  hand,  and  trying  to  put  the  bottle  in 


NO   MARRIAGE   IN   HEAVEN       213 

one  of  the  pockets  with  the  other.  Mrs.  Sam  didn't 
look  at  her. 

"Good  morning,  Mrs.  Van  Alstyne!"  Miss  Sum- 
mers almost  threw  it  at  her.  "I  spoke  to  you  be- 
fore ;  I  guess  you  didn't  hear  me." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  heard  you,"  answered  Mrs.  Sam,  and 
turned  her  back  on  her.  Give  me  a  little  light-haired 
woman  for  sheer  devilishness ! 

I'd  expected  to  see  Miss  Summers  fly  to  pieces 
with  rage,  but  she  stared  at  Mrs.  Sam's  back,  and 
after *a  minute  she  laughed. 

"I  see !"  she  remarked  slowly.  "You're  the  sister, 
aren't  you?" 

Mr.  Sam  had  given  up  trying  to  hide  the  bottle 
and  now  he  set  it  on  the  floor  with  a  thump  and 
came  over  to  the  fire. 

"It's — you  see,  the  situation  is  embarrassing,"  he 
began.  "If  we  had  had  any  idea — " 

"I  might  have  been  still  in  the  Finleyville  hotel !" 
she  finished  for  him.  "Awful  thought,  isn't  it?" 

"Under  the  circumstances,"  went  on  Mr.  Sam, 
nervously,  "don't  you  think  it  would  be — er — better 
form  if — er — under  the  circumstances — " 

"I'm  thinking  of  my  circumstances,"  she  put  in, 


214         WHERE   THERE'S    A    WILL 

good-naturedly.  "If  you  imagine  that  six  weeks  of 
one-night  stands  has  left  me  anything  but  a  rural 
wardrobe  and  a  box  of  dog  biscuit  for  Arabella, 
you're  pretty  well  mistaken.  I  haven't  even  a  decent 
costume.  All  we  had  left  after  the  sheriff  got 
through  was  some  grass  mats,  a  checked  sunbonnet 
and  a  pump." 

"Minnie,"  Mrs.  Sam  said  coldly,  "that  little  beast 
of  a  dog  is  trying  to  drink  out  of  the  spring!" 

I  caught  her  in  time  and  gave  her  a  good  slapping. 
When  I  looked  up  Miss  Summers  was  glaring  down 
at  me  over  the  rail. 

"Just  what  do  you  mean  by  hitting  my  dog?"  she 
demanded.  It  was  the  first  time  I'd  seen  her  angry. 

"Just  what  I  appeared  to  mean,"  I  answered.  "If 
you  want  to  take  it  as  a  love  pat,  you  may."  And 
I  stalked  to  the  door  and  threw  the  creature  out  into 
the  snow.  It  was  the  first  false  step  that  day ;  if 
I'd  known  what  putting  that  dog  out  meant — !  "I 
don't  allow  dogs  here,"  I  said,  and  shut  the  door. 

Miss  Summers  was  furious;  she  turned  and 
stared  at  Mrs.  Sam,  who  was  smiling  at  the  fire. 

"Let  Arabella  in,"  she  said  to  me  in  an  under- 
tone, "or  I'll  open  the  pantry  door!" 


NO    MARRIAGE   IN    HEAVEN       215 

"Open  the  door!"  I  retorted.  I  was  half  hys- 
terical, but  it  was  no  time  to  weaken.  She  looked 
me  straight  in  the  eye  for  fully  ten  seconds;  then, 
to  my  surprise,  she  winked  at  me.  But  when  she 
turned  on  Mr.  Sam  she  was  cold  rage  again  and 
nothing  else. 

"I  am  not  going  to  leave,  if  that  is  what  you  are 
about  to  suggest,"  she  said.  "I've  been  trying  to 
see  Dicky  Carter  the  last  ten  days,  and  I'll  stay 
here  until  I  see  him." 

"It's  a  delicate  situation — " 

"Delicate !"  she  snapped.  "It's  indelicate — it's  in- 
decent, that's  what  it  is.  Didn't  I  get  my  clothes, 
and  weren't  we  to  have  been  married  by  the  Rever- 
end Dwight  Johnstone,  out  in  Salem,  Ohio?  And 
didn't  he  go  out  there  and  have  old  Johnstone  marry 
him  to  somebody  else?  The  wretch!  If  I  ever  see 
him—" 

A  glass  dropped  in  the  pantry  and  smashed,  but 
nobody  paid  any  attention. 

"Oh,  I'm  not  going  until  he  comes!"  she  con- 
tinued. "I'll  stay  right  here,  and  I'll  have  what's 
coming  to  me  or  I'll  know  the  reason  why.  Don't 
forget  for  a  minute  that  I  know  why  Mr.  Pierce  is 


216         WHERE   THERE'S    A    WILL 

here,  and  that  I  can  spoil  the  little  game  by  calling 
the  extra  ace,  if  I  want  to." 

"You're  forgetting  one  thing,"  Mrs.  Sam  said, 
facing  her  for  the  first  time,  "if  you  call  the  game, 
my  brother  is  worth  exactly  what  clothes  he  hap- 
pens to  be  wearing  at  the  moment  and  nothing  else. 
He  hasn't  a  penny  of  his  own." 

"I  don't  believe  it,"  she  sniffed.  "Look  at  the 
things  he  gave  me !" 

"Yes.    I've  already  had  the  bills,"  said  Mr.  Sam. 

She  whirled  and  looked  at  him,  and  then  she 
threw  back  her  head  and  laughed. 

"You!"  she  said.  "Why,  bless  my  soul !  All  the 
expense  of  a  double  life  and  none  of  its  advan- 
tages !" 

She  went  out  on  that,  still  laughing,  leaving  Mrs. 
Sam  scarlet  with  rage,  and  when  she  was  safely 
gone  I  brought  Mr.  Dick  out  to  the  fire.  He  was 
so  limp  he  could  hardly  walk,  and  it  took  three 
glasses  of  the  wine  and  all  Mr.  Sam  could  do  to 
start  him  back  to  the  shelter-house.  His  sister  would 
not  speak  to  him. 

Mike  went  to  Mr.  Pierce  that  day  and  asked  for 
a  raise  of  salary.  He  did  not  get  it.  Perhaps,  as 


NO   MARRIAGE   IN   HEAVEN       217 

things  have  turned  out,  it  was  for  the  best,  but  it 
is  strange  to  think  how  different  things  would  have 
been  if  he'd  been  given  it.  He  was  sent  up  later,  of 
course,  for  six  months  for  malicious  mischief,  but 
by  that  time  the  damage  was  done. 


EVERY  DOG  HAS  HIS  DAY 

THAT  was  on  a  Saturday  morning.  During 
the  golf  season  Saturday  is  always  a  busy  day 
with  us,  with  the  husbands  coming  up  for  over  Sun- 
day, and  trying  to  get  in  all  the  golf,  baths  and 
spring  water  they  can  in  forty-eight  hours.  But  in 
the  winter  Saturday  is  the  same  as  any  other  day. 

It  had  stopped  snowing  and  the  sun  was  shining, 
although  it  was  so  cold  that  the  snow  blew  like 
powder.  By  eleven  o'clock  every  one  who  could 
walk  had  come  to  the  spring-house.  Even  Mr.  Jen- 
nings came  down  in  a  wheeled  chair,  and  Senator 
Biggs,  still  looking  a  sort  of  grass-green  and  keep- 
ing his  eyes  off  me,  came  and  sat  in  a  corner,  with  a 
book  called  Fast  versus  Feast  held  so  that  every 
one  could  see. 

There  were  bridge  tables  going,  and  five  hundred, 
and  a  group  around  the  slot-machine,  while  the 

218 


EVERY    DOG   HAS    HIS   DAY       219 

crocheters  formed  a  crowd  by  themselves,  exchang- 
ing gossip  and  new  stitches. 

About  twelve  o'clock  Mr.  Thoburn  came  in,  and 
as  he  opened  the  door,  in  leaped  Arabella.  The 
women  made  a  fuss  over  the  creature  and  cuddled 
her,  and  when  I  tried  to  put  her  out  everybody  ob- 
jected. So  she  stayed,  and  Miss  Summers  put  her 
through  a  lot  of  tricks,  while  the  men  crowded 
around.  As  I  said  before,  Miss  Summers  was  a 
first  favorite  with  the  men. 

Mr.  von  Inwald  and  Miss  Patty  came  in  just 
then  and  stood  watching. 

"And  now,"  said  Mr.  von  Inwald,  "I  propose,  as 
a  reward  to  Miss  Arabella,  a  glass  of  this  wonder- 
ful water.  Minnie,  a  glass  of  water  for  Arabella!" 

"She  doesn't  drink  out  of  one  of  my  glasses,"  I 
declared  angrily.  "It's  one  of  my  rules  that  dogs — " 

"Tut!"  said  Mr.  Thoburn.  "What's  good  for 
man  is  good  for  beast.  Besides,  the  little  beggar's 
thirsty." 

Well,  they  made  a  great  fuss  about  the  creature's 
being  thirsty,  and  so  finally  I  got  a  panful  of  spring 
water  and  it  drank  until  I  thought  it  would  burst. 
I'm  not  vicious,  as  I  say,  but  I  wish  it  had. 


220         WHERE   THERE'S    A    WILL 

Well,  the  dog  finished  and  lay  down  by  the  fire, 
and  everything  seemed  to  go  on  as  before.  Mr. 
Thoburn  was  in  a  good  humor,  and  he  came  over 
to  the  spring  and  brought  a  trayful  of  glasses. 

"To  save  you  steps,  Minnie!"  he  explained. 
"You  have  no  idea  how  it  pains  me  to  see  you  work- 
ing. Gentlemen,  name  your  poison!" 

"A  frappe,  with  blotting-paper  on  the  side,"  Mr. 
Moody  snarled  from  the  slot-machine.  "If  I  drink 
much  more,  I'll  have  to  be  hooped  up  like  a  barrel." 

"Just  what  is  the  record  here  ?"  the  bishop  asked. 
"I'm  ordered  eight  glasses,  but  I  find  it  more  than  a 
sufficiency." 

"We  had  one  man  here  once  who  could  drink 
twenty-five  at  a  time,"  I  said,  "but  he  was  a  Ger- 
man." 

"He  was  a  tank,"  Mr.  Sam  corrected  grumpily. 
He  was  watching  something  on  the  floor — I  couldn't 
see  what.  "All  I  need  is  to  swallow  a  few  goldfish 
and  I'd  be  a  first-class  aquarium." 

"What  I  think  we  should  do,"  Miss  Cobb  said, 
"is  to  try  to  find  out  just  what  suits  us,  and  stick  to 
that.  I'm  always  trying." 

"Damned    trying!"    Mr.    Jennings    snarled,   and 


EVERY   DOG   HAS    HIS    DAY       221 

limped  over  for  more  water.  "I'd  like  to  know 
where  to  go  for  rheumatism." 

"I  got  mine  here,"  said  Mr.  Thoburn  cheerfully. 
"It's  my  opinion  this  place  is  rheumatic  as  well  as 
malarious.  And  as  for  this  water,  with  all  due  re- 
spect to  the  spirit  in  the  spring" — he  bowed  to  me 
—"I  think  it's  an  insult  to  ask  people  to  drink  it. 
It  isn't  half  so  strong  as  it  was  two  years  ago. 
Taste  it;  smell  it!  I  ask  the  old  friends  of  the  san- 
atorium, is  that  water  what  it  used  to  be?" 

"Don't  tell  me  it  was  ever  any  worse  than  this!" 
Miss  Summers  exclaimed.  But  Thoburn  went  on. 
The  card-players  stopped  to  listen,  but  Mr.  Sam 
was  still  staring  at  something  on  the  floor. 

"I  tell  you,  the  spring  is  losing  its  virtue,  and,  like 
a  woman,  without  virtue,  it  is  worthless." 

"But  interesting!"  Mr.  Sam  said,  and  stooped 
down. 

"Consider,"  went  on  Mr.  Thoburn,  standing  and 
holding  his  glass  to  the  light,  "how  we  are  at  the 
mercy  of  this  little  spring!  A  convulsion  in  the 
bowels  of  the  earth,  and  its  health-giving  properties 
may  be  changed  to  the  direst  poison.  How  do  we 
know,  you  and  I,  some  such  change  has  not  occurred 


222         WHERE   THERE'S    A    WILL 

overnight?  Unlikely  as  it  is,  it's  a  possibility  that, 
sitting  here  calmly,  we  may  be  sipping  our  death 
potion." 

Some  of  the  people  actually  put  down  their  glasses 
and  everybody  began  to  look  uneasy  except  Mr. 
Sam,  who  was  still  watching  something  I  could  not 
see. 

Mr.  Thoburn  looked  around  and  saw  he'd  made 
AU  impression.  "We  may,"  he  continued,  "although 
my  personal  opinion  of  this  water  is  that  it's  grow- 
ing too  weak  to  be  wicked.  I  prove  my  faith  in 
Mother  Nature;  if  it  is  poisoned,  I  am  gone.  I 
drink!" 

Mr.  Sam  suddenly  straightened  up  and  glanced  at 
Miss  Summers.  "Perhaps  I'm  mistaken,"  he  said, 
"but  I  think  there  is  something  the  matter  with  Ara- 
bella." 

Everybody  looked :  Arabella  was  lying  on  her 
back,  jerking  and  twitching  and  foaming  at  the 
mouth. 

"She's  been  poisoned !"  Miss  Summers  screeched, 
and  fell  on  her  knees  beside  her.  "It's  that  wretched 
water!" 

There  was  pretty  nearly  a  riot  in  a  minute.     Ev- 


EVERY   DOG   HAS    HIS    DAY       223 

erybody  jumped  up  and  stared  at  the  dog,  and  ev- 
erybody remembered  the  water  he  or  she  had  just 
had,  and  coming  on  top  of  Mr.  Thoburn's  speech,  it 
made  them  babbling  lunatics.  As  I  look  back,  I 
have  a  sort  of  picture  of  Miss  Summers  on  the 
floor  with  Arabella  in  her  lap,  and  the  rest  telling 
how  much  of  the  water  they  had  had  and  crowding 
around  Mr.  Thoburn. 

"It  seems  hardly  likely  it  was  the  water,"  he 
said,  "although  from  what  I  recall  of  my  chemistry 
it  is  distinctly  possible.  Springs  have  been  known 
to  change  their  character,  and  the  coincidence — the 
dog  and  the  water — is  certainly  startling.  Still,  as 
nobody  feels  ill — " 

But  they  weren't  sure  they  didn't.  The  bishop 
said  he  felt  perfectly  well,  but  he  had  a  strange  in- 
clination to  yawn  all  the  time,  and  Mrs.  Biggs'  left 
arm  had  gone  to  sleep.  And  then,  with  the  excite- 
ment and  all,  Miss  Cobb  took  a  violent  pain  in  the 
back  of  her  neck  and  didn't  know  whether  to  cry  or 
to  laugh. 

Well,  I  did  what  I  could.  The  worst  of  it  was, 
I  wasn't  sure  it  wasn't  the  water.  I  thought  pos- 
sibly Mr.  Pierce  had  made  a  mistake  in  what  he 


224        WHERE  THERE'S   A   WILL 

had  bought  at  the  drug  store,  and  although  I  don't 
as  a  rule  drink  it  myself,  I  began  to  feel  queer  in 
the  pit  of  my  stomach. 

Mr.  Thoburn  came  over  to  the  spring,  and  filling 
a  glass,  took  it  to  the  light,  with  every  one  watching 
anxiously.  When  he  brought  it  back  he  stooped 
over  the  railing  and  whispered  to  me. 

"When  did  you  fix  it  ?"  he  asked  sternly. 

"Last  night,"  I  answered.  It  was  no  time  to 
beat  about  the  bush. 

"It's  yellower  than  usual,"  he  said.  "I'm  inclined 
to  think  something  has  gone  wrong  at  the  drug 
store,  Minnie." 

I  could  hardly  breathe.  I  had  the  most  terrible 
vision  of  all  the  guests  lying  around  like  Arabella, 
twitching  and  foaming,  and  me  going  to  prison  as 
a  wholesale  murderess.  Any  hair  but  mine  would 
have  turned  gray  in  that  minute. 

Mr.  von  Inwald  was  watching  like  the  others, 
and  now  he  came  over  and  caught  Mr.  Thoburn  by 
the  arm. 

"What  do  you  think — "  he  asked  nervously.  "I 
— I  have  had  three  glasses  of  it !" 

"Three!"   shouted    Senator  Biggs,    coming    for- 


EVERY   DOG  HAS   HIS   DAY       225 

ward.  "I've  had  eleven !  I  tell  you,  I've  been  feeling 
queer  for  twenty- four  hours !  I'm  poisoned !  That's 
what  I  am." 

He  staggered  out,  with  Mrs.  Biggs  just  behind 
him,  and  from  that  moment  they  were  all  demoral- 
ized. I  stood  by  the  spring  and  sipped  at  the  water 
to  show  I  wasn't  afraid  of  it,  with  my  knees  shak- 
ing under  me  and  Arabella  lying  stock-still,  as  if 
she  had  died,  under  my  very  nose.  One  by  one  they 
left  to  look  for  Doctor  Barnes,  or  to  get  the  white 
oi"  egg,  which  somebody  had  suggested  as  an  anti- 
dote. 

Miss  Cobb  was  one  of  the  last  to  go.  She  turned 
in  the  doorway  and  looked  back  at  me,  with  tears 
in  her  eyes. 

"It  isn't  your  fault,  Minnie,"  she  said,  "and  for- 
give me  if  I  have  ever  said  anything  unkind  to  you." 
Then  she  went,  and  I  was  alone,  looking  down  at 
Arabella. 

Or  rather,  I  thought  I  was  alone,  for  there  was  a 
movement  by  one  of  the  windows  and  Miss  Patty 
came  forward  and  knelt  by  the  dog. 

"Of  all  the  absurdities!"  she  said.  "Poor  little 
thing !  Minnie,  I  believe  she's  breathing !" 


226         WHERE   THERE'S   A   WILL 

She  put  the  dog's  head  in  her  lap,  and  the  little 
beast  opened  its  eyes  and  tried  to  wag  its  blue  tail. 

"Oh,  Miss  Patty,  Miss  Patty!"  I  exclaimed,  and 
I  got  down  beside  her  and  cried  on  her  shoulder, 
with  her  stroking  my  hand  and  calling  me  dearest! 
Me! 

I  was  wiping  my  eyes  when  the  door  was  thrown 
open  and  Mr.  Pierce  ran  in.  He  had  no  hat  on  and 
his  hair  was  powdered  with  snow.  He  stopped 
just  inside  the  door  and  looked  at  Miss  Patty. 

"You — "  he  said  "you  are  all  right?  You  are 
not — "  he  came  forward  and  stood  over  her,  with 
his  heart  in  his  eyes.  She  must  have  known  from 
that  minute. 

"My  God!"  he  exclaimed,  "I  thought  you  were 
poisoned !" 

She  looked  up,  without  smiling,  and  then  I 
thought  she  half  shut  her  eyes,  as  if  what  she  saw 
in  his  face  hurt  her. 

"I  am  all  right,"  she  assured  him,  "and  little 
Arabella  will  be  all  right,  too.  She's  had  a  convul- 
sion, that's  all — probably  from  overeating.  As  for 
the  others — !" 

"Where  is  the — where  is  von  Inwald?" 


EVERY   DOG   HAS    HIS   DAY       227 

"He  has  gone  to  take  the  white  of  an  egg,"  she 
replied  rather  haughtily.  She  was  too  honest  to 
evade  anything,  but  she  flushed.  Of  course,  I  knew 
what  he  didn't — that  the  prince  had  been  among  the 
first  to  scurry  to  the  house,  and  that  he  hadn't  even 
waited  for  her. 

He  walked  to  the  window,  as  if  he  didn't  want 
her  to  see  what  he  thought  of  that,  and  I  saw  him 
looking  hard  at  something  outside  in  the  snow. 
When  he  walked  back  to  the  fire  he  was  smiling, 
and  he  stooped  over  and  poked  Arabella  with  his 
finger. 

"So  that  was  it!"  he  said.  "Full  to  the  scuppers, 
poor  little  wretch!  Minnie,  I  am  hoist  with  my 
own  petard,  which  in  this  case  was  a  boomerang." 

"Which  is  in  English — "  I  asked. 

"With  the  instinct  of  her  sex,  Arabella  has  un- 
earthed what  was  meant  to  be  buried  forever.  She 
had  gorged  herself  into  a  convulsion  on  that  rabbit 
I  shot  last  night !" 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE  MUTINY 

THEY  went  to  the  house  together,  he  carrying 
Arabella  like  a  sick  baby  and  Miss  Patty  be- 
side him.  As  far  as  I  could  see  they  didn't  speak  a 
word  to  each  other,  but  once  or  twice  I  saw  her  turn 
and  look  up  at  him  as  if  she  was  puzzled. 

I  closed  the  door  and  stood  just  inside,  looking 
at  father's  picture  over  the  mantel.  As  sure  as  I 
stood  there,  the  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  spring,  and 
I  sensed,  as  you  may  say,  what  they  meant.  I  went 
over  and  looked  down  into  the  spring,  and  it  seemed 
to  me  it  was  darker  than  usual.  It  may  have  smelled 
stronger,  but  the  edge  had  been  taken  off  my  nose, 
so  to  speak,  by  being  there  so  long. 

From  the  spring  I  looked  again  at  father,  and  his 
eyes  were  on  me  mournful  and  sad.  I  felt  as 
though,  if  he'd  been  there,  father  would  have 
turned  the  whole  affair  to  the  advantage  of  the 

228 


THE   MUTINY  229 

house,  and  it  was  almost  more  than  I  could  bear. 
I  was  only  glad  the  old  doctor's  enlargement  had 
not  come  yet.  I  couldn't  have  endured  having  it  see 
what  had  occurred. 

The  only  thing  I  could  think  of  was  to  empty  the 
spring  and  let  the  water  come  in  plain.  I  could  put 
a  little  sulphur  in  to  give  it  color  and  flavor,  and  if 
it  turned  out  that  Mr.  Pierce  was  right  and  that 
Arabella  was  only  a  glutton,  I  could  put  in  the  other 
things  later. 

I  was  carrying  out  my  first  pailful  when  Doctor 
Barnes  came  down  the  path  and  took  the  pail  out  of 
my  hand. 

"What  are  you  doing?"  he  asked.  "Making  a 
slide?" 

"No,"  I  said  bitterly,  "I  am  watering  the 
flowers." 

"Good!"  He  was  not  a  bit  put  out.  "Let  me 
help  you."  He  took  the  pail  across  the  path  and 
poured  a  little  into  the  snow  at  the  base  of  a  half- 
dozen  fence  posts.  "There!"  he  said,  coming  back 
triumphant.  "The  roses  are  done.  Now  let's  have 
a  go  at  the  pansies.  and  the  lady's-slippers  and  the — • 
the  begonias.  I  say" — he  stopped  suddenly  on  his 


230         WHERE   THERE'S    A    WILL 

way  in — "sulphur  water  on  a  begonia — what  would 
it  make  ?  Skunk  cabbage  ?" 

Inside,  however,  he  put  down  the  pail,  and  pulling 
me  in,  closed  the  door. 

"Now  forget  it !"  he  commanded.  "Just  because  a 
lot  of  damn  fools  see  a  dog  in  a  fit  and  have  one, 
too,  is  that  any  reason  for  your  being  scared  wall- 
eyed and  knock-kneed?" 

"I'm  not!"  I  snapped. 

"Well,  you're  wall-eyed  with  fright,"  he  insisted. 
"Of  course,  you're  the  best  judge  of  your  own 
knees,  but  after  last  night —  Had  any  lunch  ?" 

I  shook  my  head. 

"Exactly,"  he  said.  "You  make  me  think  of  the 
little  boy  who  dug  post-holes  in  the  daytime  and 
took  in  washings  at  night  to  support  the  family.  Sit 
down." 

I  sat. 

"Inhale  and  exhale  slowly  four  times,  and  then 
swallow  the  lump  in  your  throat  .  .  .  Gone?" 

"Yes." 

"Good."  He  was  fumbling  in  his  pocket  and  he 
brought  out  a  napkin.  When  he  opened  it  there 
was  a  sandwich,  a  piece  of  cheese  and  a  banana. 


THE    MUTINY  231 

"What  do  you  think  of  that?"  he  asked,  watching 
me  anxiously.  "Looks  pretty  good  ?" 

"Fine,"  I  said,  hating  to  disappoint  him,  al- 
though I  never  eat  sardines,  and  bananas  give  me 
indigestion,  "I'm  hungry  enough  to  eat  a  raw  Ital- 
ian." 

"Then  fall  to,"  he  directed,  and  with  a  flourish 
he  drew  a  bottle  of  ginger  ale  from  his  pocket. 

"How's  this?"  he  demanded,  holding  it  up. 
"Cheers  but  doesn't  inebriate;  not  a  headache  in  a 
barrel;  ginger  ale  to  the  gingery!  'A  quart  of  ale 
is  a  dish  for  a  king,'  "  he  said,  holding  up  a  glass. 
"That's  Shakespeare,  Miss  Minnie." 

I  was  a  good  bit  more  cheerful  when  I'd  choked 
down  the  sandwich,  especially  when  he  assured  me 
the  water  was  all  right — "a  little  high,  as  you  might 
say,  but  not  poisonous.  Lord,  I  wish  you  could 
have  seen  them  staggering  into  my  office!" 

"I  saw  enough,"  I  said  with  a  shiver. 

"That  German,  von  Inwald,"  he  went  on,  "he's 
the  limit.  He  accused  us  of  poisoning  him  for  rea- 
sons of  state!" 

"Where  are  they  now?" 

"My  dear  girl,"  he  answered,  putting  down  his 


232         WHERE   THERE'S    A 

glass,  "what  has  been  pounded  into  me  ever  since  I 
struck  the  place?  The  baths!  I  prescribe  'em  all 
day  and  dream  'em  all  night.  Where  are  the 
poisonees  now  ?  They  are  steaming,  stewing,  exud- 
ing in  the  hot  rooms  of  the  bath  department — all  of 
them,  every  one  of  them!  In  the  hold  and  the 
hatches  down !" 

He  picked  up  the  pail  and  went  down  the  steps 
to  the  spring. 

"After  all,"  he  said,  "it  won't  hurt  to  take  out  a 
little  of  this  and  pour  it  on  the  ground.  It  ought 
to  be  good  fertilizer."  He  stooped.  "  'Come,  gentle 
spring,  ethereal  mildness,  come,'  "  he  quoted,  and 
dipped  in  the  pail. 

Just  then  somebody  fell  against  the  door  and 
stumbled  into  the  room.  It  was  Tillie,  as  white  as 
milk,  and  breathing  in  gasps. 

"Quick!"  she  screeched,  "Minnie,  quick!" 

"What  is  it  ?"  I  asked,  jumping  up.  She'd  fallen 
back  against  the  door-frame  and  stood  with  her 
hand  clutching  her  heart. 

"That  dev— devil— Mike !"  she  panted.  "He  has 
turned  on  the  steam  in  the  men's  baths  and  gone — 
gone  away!" 


THE    MUTINY  233 

"With  people  in  the  bath?"  Doctor  Barnes  asked, 
slamming  down  the  pail. 

Tillie  nodded. 

"Then  why  in  creation  don't  they  get  out  of  the 
baths  until  we  can  shut  off  the  steam?"  I  demanded, 
grabbing  up  my  shawl.  But  Tillie  shook  her  head 
in  despair. 

"They  can't,"  she  answered,  "he's  hid  their 
clothes!" 

The  next  thing  I  recall  is  running  like  mad  up 
the  walk  with  Doctor  Barnes  beside  me,  steadying 
me  by  the  arm.  I  only  spoke  once  that  I  remember 
and  that  was  just  as  we  got  to  the  house. 

"This  settles  it!"  I  panted,  desperately.  "It's  all 
over." 

"Not  a  bit  of  it!"  he  said,  shoving  me  up  the 
steps  and  into  the  hall.  "The  old  teakettle  is  just 
getting  'het  up'  a  bit  By  the  gods  and  little  fishes, 
just  listen  to  it  singing  down  there !" 

The  help  was  gathered  in  a  crowd  at  the  head  of 
the  bath-house  staircase,  where  a  cloud  of  steam 
was  coming  up,  and  down  below  we  could  hear  fu- 
-rious  talking,  and  somebody  shouting,  "Mike! 


234         WHERE   THERE'S    A    WILL 

Mike!"  in  a  voice  that  was  choked  with  rage  and 
steam. 

Doctor  Barnes  elbowed  his  way  through  the 
crowd  to  the  top  of  the  stairs  and  I  followed. 

"There's  Minnie!"  Amanda  King  yelled.  "She 
knows  all  about  the  place.  Minnie,  you  can  shut  it 
off,  can't  you?" 

"I'll  try,"  I  said,  and  was  starting  down,  when 
Doctor  Barnes  jerked  me  back. 

"You  stay  here,"  he  said.  "Where's  Mr.  Pier — 
where's  Carter?" 

"Down  with  the  engineer,"  somebody  replied  out 
of  the  steam  cloud. 

"Hello  there!"  he  called  down  the  staircase. 
"How's  the  air?" 

"Clothes!     Send  us  some  clothes!" 

It  was  Mr.  Sam  calling.  The  rest  was  swallowed 
up  in  a  fresh  roaring,  as  if  a  steam-pipe  had  given 
away.  That  settled  the  people  below.  With  a  burst 
of  fury  they  swarmed  up  the  stairs  in  their  bath 
sheets,  the  bishop  leading,  and  just  behind  him,  talk- 
ing as  no  gentleman  should  talk  under  any  circum- 
stances, Senator  Biggs.  The  rest  followed,  their  red 
faces  shining  through  the  steam — all  of  them  mur- 


THE   MUTINY  235 

derous,  holding  their  sheets  around  them  with  one 
hand,  and  waving  the  other  in  a  frenzy.  It  was 
awful. 

The  help  scattered  and  ran,  but  I  stood  my 
ground.  The  sight  of  a  man  in  a  sheet  didn't  scare 
me  and  it  was  no  time  for  weakness.  The  steam 
was  thicker  than  ever,  and  the  hall  was  misty.  A 
moment  later  the  engineer  came  up  and  after  him 
Mr.  Pierce,  with  a  towel  over  his  mouth  and  a 
screw-driver  in  his  hand.  He  was  white  with  rage. 
He  brushed  past  the  sheets  without  paying  the  slight- 
est attention  to  them,  and  tore  the  towel  off  his 
mouth. 

"Who  saw  Mike  last?"  he  shouted  across  to 
where  the  pharmacy  clerk,  the  elevator  boy  and 
some  of  the  bell-boys  had  retreated  to  the  office  and 
were  peeping  out  through  the  door. 

Here  Mr.  Moody,  who's  small  at  any  time,  and 
who  without  the  padding  on  his  shoulders  and 
wrapped  in  a  sheet  with  his  red  face  above,  looked 
like  a  lighted  cigarette,  darted  out  of  the  crowd  and 
caught  him  by  the  sleeve. 

"Here!"  he  cried,  "we've  got  a  few  things  to 
say  to  you,  you  young — 


236         WHERE   THERE'S    A    WILL 

"Take  your  hand  off  my  arm!"  thundered  Mr. 
Pierce. 

The  storm  broke  with  that.  They  crowded 
around  Mr.  Pierce,  yelling  like  maniacs,  and  he 
stood  there,  white-faced,  and  let  them  wear  them- 
selves out.  The  courage  of  a  man  in  a  den  of  lions 
was  nothing  to  it.  Doctor  Barnes  forced  his  way 
through  the  crowd  and  stood  there  beside  him. 

It  wasn't  only  the  steam  and  their  clothes  being 
hidden;  it  had  started  with  the  scare  at  the  spring 
in  the  morning,  and  when  they  had  told  him  what 
they  thought  about  that,  they  went  back  still 
further  and  bellowed  about  the  mismanagement  of 
the  place  ever  since  he  had  taken  charge,  and  the 
food,  and  the  steam-heat,  and  the  new  rules — oh, 
they  hated  him  all  right,  and  they  told  him  so,  pur- 
ple-faced with  rage  and  heat,  dancing  around  him 
and  shaking  one  fist  in  his  face,  as  I  say,  while  they 
held  their  sheets  fast  with  the  other. 

And  I  stood  there  and  watched,  my  mind  awhirl, 
expecting  every  minute  to  hear  that  they  were  all 
leaving,  or  to  have  some  one  forget  and  shake  both 
fists  at  once. 

And  that's  how  it  ended    finally — I    mean,    of 


THE   MUTINY  237 

course,  that  they  said  they  would  all  leave  imme- 
diately, and  that  he  ought  to  be  glad  to  have  them 
go  quietly,  and  not  have  him  jailed  for  malicious 
mischief  or  compounding  a  felony.  The  whole 
thing  was  an  outrage,  and  the  three  train  would 
leave  the  house  as  empty  as  a  squeezed  lemon. 

I  wanted  to  go  forward  and  drop  on  my  knees 
and  implore  them  to  remember  the  old  doctor,  and 
the  baths  they'd  had  when  nothing  went  wrong, 
and  the  days  when  they'd  sworn  that  the  spring 
kept  them  young  and  well,  but  there  was  some- 
thing in  Mr.  Pierce's  face  that  kept  me  back. 

"At  three  o'clock,  then,"  he  said.     "Very  well." 

"Don't  be  a  fool!"  I  heard  Mr.  Sam  from  the 
crowd. 

"Is  that  all  you  have  to  say?"  roared  Mr.  von 
Inwald.  I  hadn't  noticed  him  before.  He  had  his 
sheet  on  in  Grecian  style  and  it  looked  quite  orna- 
mental although  a  little  short.  "Haven't  you  any 
apology  to  make,  sir?" 

"Neither  apology  nor  explanation  to  you,"  Mr. 
Pierce  retorted.  And  to  the  other:  "It  is  an  unfor- 
tunate accident — incident,  if  you  prefer."  He 
looked  at  Thoburn,  who  was  the  only  one  in  a  bath- 


238         WHERE   THERE'S    A   iWILL 

robe,  and  who  was  the  only  cheerful  one  in  the  lot. 
"I  had  refused  a  request  of  the  bath  man's  and  he 
has  taken  this  form  of  revenge.  If  this  gives  me 
the  responsibility  I  am  willing  to  take  it.  If  you 
expect  me  to  ask  you  to  stay  I'll  not  do  it  I  don't 
mind  saying-  that  I  am  as  tired  of  all  this  as  you 
are." 

"As  tired  of  what?"  demanded  Mr.  Moody, 
pushing  forward  out  of  the  crowd.  Mr.  Sam  was 
making  frantic  gestures  to  catch  Mr.  Pierce's  eye, 
but  he  would  not  look  at  him. 

"Of  all  this,"  he  said.  "Of  charging  people 
sanatorium  prices  under  a  pretense  of  making  them 
well.  Does  anybody  here  imagine  he's  going  to  find 
health  by  sitting  around  in  an  overstuffed  leather 
chair,  with  the  temperature  at  eighty,  eating  five 
meals  a  day,  and  walking  as  far  as  the  mineral 
spring  for  exercise?" 

There  was  a  sort  of  angry  snarl  in  the  air,  and 
Mr.  Sam  threw  up  his  one  free  hand  in  despair. 

"In  fact,"  Mr.  Pierce  went  on,  "I'd  about  de- 
cided on  a  new  order  of  things  for  this  place  any- 
how. It's  going  to  be  a  real  health  resort,  run  for 


THE    MUTINY  239 

people  who  want  to  get  well  or  keep  well.  People 
who  wish  to  be  overfed,  overheated  and  coddled 
need  not  come — or  stay." 

The  bishop  spoke  over  the  heads  of  the  others, 
who  looked  dazed. 

"Does  that  mean,"  he  inquired  mildly,  "that — 
guests  must  either  obey  this  new  order  of  things 
or  go  away?" 

Mr.  Pierce  looked  at  the  bishop  and  smiled. 

"I'm  sorry,  sir,"  he  said,  "but  as  every  one  is 
leaving,  anyhow — 

They  fairly  jumped  at  him  then.  They  sur- 
rounded him  in  a  howling  mob  and  demanded  how 
he  dared  to  turn  them  out,  and  what  did  he  mean 
by  saying  they  were  overfed,  and  they  would  leave 
when  they  were  good  and  ready  and  not  before, 
and  he  could  go  to  blazes.  It  was  the  most  scan- 
dalous thing  I've  ever  known  of  at  Hope  Springs, 
and  in  the  midst  of  it  Mr.  Pierce  stood  cool  and 
quiet,  waiting  for  a  chance  to  speak.  And  when 
the  time  came  he  jumped  in  and  told  them  the  truth 
about  themselves,  and  most  of  it  hurt.  He  was  good 
and  mad,  and  he  stood  there  and  picked  out  the 


24o         WHERE   THERE'S   A   WILL 

flabby  ones  and  the  fat  ones,  the  whisky  livers  and 
the  tobacco  hearts  and  the  banquet  stomachs,  and 
called  them  out  by  name. 

When  he  got  through  they  were  standing  in  front 
of  him,  ashamed  to  look  at  one  another,  and  not 
knowing  whether  to  fall  on  him  and  tear  him  to 
pieces,  or  go  and  weep  in  a  corner  because  they'd 
played  such  havoc  with  the  bodies  the  Lord  gave 
them.  If  he'd  weakened  for  a  minute  they'd  have 
jumped  on  him.  But  he  didn't.  He  got  through  and 
stood  looking  at  them  in  their  sheets,  and  then  he 
said  coolly : 

"The  bus  will  be  ready  at  two-thirty,  gentlemen," 
and  turning  on  his  heels,  went  into  the  office  and 
closed  the  door. 

They  scattered  to  their  rooms  in  every  stage  of 
rage  and  excitement,  and  at  last  only  Mr.  Sam  and 
I  were  left  staring  at  each  other.  "Damned  young 
idiot !"  he  said.  "I  wish  to  heavens  you'd  never  sug- 
gested bringing  him  here,  Minnie!" 

And  leaving  me  speechless  with  indignation,  he 
trailed  himself  and  his  sheet  up  the  stairs. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

HOME  TO  ROOST 

I  COULDN'T  stand  any  more.  It  was  all  over ! 
I  rushed  to  my  room  and  threw  myself  on  the 
bed.  At  two-thirty  I  heard  the  bus  come  to  the 
porte-cochere  under  my  window  and  then  drive 
away ;  that  was  the  last  straw.  I  put  a  pillow  over 
my  head  so  nobody  could  hear  me,  and  then  and 
there  I  had  hysterics.  I  knew  I  was  having  them, 
and  I  wasn't  ashamed.  I'd  have  exploded  if  I 
hadn't. 

And  then  somebody  jerked  the  pillow  away  and 
I  looked  up,  with  my  eyes  swollen  almost  shut,  and 
it  was  Doctor  Barnes.  He  had  a  glass  of  water  in 
his  hand  and  he  held  it  right  above  me. 

"One  more  yell,"  he  said,  "and  it  goes  over  you !" 
I  lay  there  staring  up  at  him,  and  then  I  knew 
what  a  fright  I  looked,    and    although    I    couldn't 
speak  yet,  I  reached  up  and  felt  for  my  hairpins. 

241 


242         WHERE   THERE'S   A   WILL 

"That's  better,"  he  said,  putting  down  the  glass. 
"Another  ten  minutes  of  that  and  you'd  have  burst 
a  blood  vessel.  Don't  worry.  I  know  I  have  no 
business  here,  but  I  anticipated  something  of  this 
kind,  and  it  may  interest  you  to  know  that  I've 
been  outside  in  the  hall  since  the  first  whoop.  It's 
been  a  good  safety-valve." 

I  sat  up  and  stared  at  him.  I  could  hardly  see 
out  of  my  eyes.  He  had  his  back  to  the  light,  but 
I  could  tell  that  he  had  a  cross  of  adhesive  plaster 
on  his  cheek  and  that  one  eye  was  almost  shut.  He 
smiled  when  he  saw  my  expression. 

"It's  the  temperament,"  he  said.  "It  goes  with 
the  hair.  I've  got  it  too,  only  I'm  apt  to  go  out 
and  pick  a  fight  at  such  times,  and  a  woman  hasn't 
got  that  outlet.  As  you  see,  I  found  Mike,  and  my 
disfigurement  is  to  Mike's  as  starlight  to  the  noon- 
day glare.  Come  and  take  a  walk." 

I  shook  my  head,  but  he  took  my  arm  and  pulled 
me  off  the  bed. 

"You  come  for  a  walk!"  he  said.  "I'll  wait  in 
the  hall  until  you  powder  your  nose.  You  look 
like  a  fire  that's  been  put  out  by  a  rain-storm." 

I  didn't  want  to  go,  but  anything  was  better  than 


HOME   TO    ROOST  243 

sitting  in  the  room  moping.  I  put  on  my  jacket 
and  Miss  Patty's  chinchillas,  which  cheered  me  a 
little,  but  as  we  went  down-stairs  the  quiet  of  the 
place  sat  on  my  chest  like  a  weight. 

The  lower  hall  was  empty.  A  new  card  headed 
"Rules"  hung  on  the  door  into  the  private  office, 
but  I  did  not  read  it.  What  was  the  use  of  rules 
without  people  to  disobey  them?  Mrs.  Moody  had 
forgotten  her  crocheting  bag  and  it  hung  on  the 
back  of  a  chair.  I  had  to  bite  my  lip  to  keep  it  from 
trembling  again. 

"The  Jenningses  are  still  here,"  said  the  doctor. 
"The  old  man  is  madder  than  any  hornet  ever  dared 
be,  and  they  go  in  the  morning.  But  the  situation 
was  too  much  for  our  German  friend.  He  left  with 
the  others." 

Well,  we  went  out  and  I  took  the  path  I  knew 
best,  which  was  out  toward  the  spring-house.  There 
wasn't  a  soul  in  sight.  The  place  looked  lonely,  with 
the  trees  hung  with  snow,  and  arching  over  the 
board  walk.  At  the  little  bridge  over  the  creek  Doc- 
tor Barnes  stopped,  and  leaning  over  the  rail,  took  a 
good  look  at  me, 

"When  you  self-contained  women  go  to  pieces," 


244         WHERE   THERE'S    A   .WILL 

he  said,  "you  pretty  near  smash,  don't  you?  You 
look  as  if  you'd  had  a  death  in  your  family." 

"This  was  my  family,"  I  half  sniveled. 

"But,"  he  said,  "you'll  be  getting  married  and 
having  a  home  of  your  own  and  forgetting  all  about 
this." 

He  looked  at  me  with  his  sharp  eyes.  "There's 
probably  some  nice  chap  in  the  village,  eh?" 

I  shook  my  head.  I  had  just  caught  sight  of  the 
broken  pieces  of  the  Moody  water-pitcher  on  the 
ice  below. 

"No  nice  young  man!"  he  remarked.  "Not  the 
telegraph  operator,  or  the  fellow  who  runs  the  liv- 
ery-stable— I've  forgotten  his  name." 

"Look  here,"  I  turned  on  him,  "if  you're  talking 
all  this  nonsense  to  keep  my  mind  off  things,  you 
needn't." 

"I'm  not,"  he  said.  "I'm  asking  for  the  sake  of 
my  own  mind,  but  we'll  not  bother  about  that  now. 
We'd  better  start  back." 

It  was  still  snowing,  although  not  so  hard.  The 
air  had  done  me  some  good,  but  the  lump  in  my 
throat  seemed  to  have  gone  to  my  chest.  The  doc- 
tor helped  me  along,  for  the  snow  was  drifting, 


HOME   TO   ROOST  245 

and  when  he  saw  I  was  past  the  crying  stage  he 
went  back  to  what  we  were  both  thinking  about. 

"Old  Pierce  is  right,"  he  said.  "Remember, 
Miss  Minnie,  I've  nothing  against  you  or  your  min- 
eral spring;  in  fact,  I'm  strong  for  you  both.  But 
while  I'm  out  of  the  ring  now  for  good — I  don't 
mind  saying  to  you  what  I  said  to  Pierce,  that  the 
only  thing  that  gets  into  training  here,  as  far  as  I 
can  see,  is  a  fellow's  pocketbook." 

We  went  back  to  the  house  and  I  straightened 
the  news  stand,  Amanda  King  having  taken  a  vio- 
lent toothache  as  a  result  of  the  excitement.  The 
Jenningses  were  packing  to  go,  and  Miss  Summers 
had  got  a  bottle  of  peroxide  and  shut  herself  in 
her  room.  At  six  o'clock  Tillie  beckoned  to  me 
from  the  door  of  the  officers'  dining-room  and  said 
she'd  put  the  basket  in  the  snow  by  the  grape  arbor. 
I  got  ready,  with  a  heavy  heart,  to  take  it  out.  I 
had  forgotten  all  about  their  dinner,  for  one  thing, 
and  I  had  to  carry  bad  news. 

But  Mr.  Pierce  had  been  there  before  me.  I  saw 
tracks  in  the  fresh  snow,  for,  praise  heaven!  it  had 
snowed  all  that  week  and  our  prints  were  rilled  up 
almost  as  fast  as  we  made  them.  When  I  got  to 


246         WHERE   THERE'S   A   .WILL 

the  shelter-house  it  was  in  a  wild  state  of  excite- 
ment. Mrs.  Dick,  with  her  cheeks  flushed,  had 
gathered  all  her  things  on  the  cot  and  was  rolling 
them  up  in  sheets  and  newspapers.  But  Mr.  Dick 
was  sitting  on  the  box  in  front  of  the  fire  with  his 
curly  hair  standing  every  way.  He  had  been  roast- 
ing potatoes,  and  as  I  opened  the  door,  he  picked 
one  up  and  poked  at  it  to  see  if  it  was  done. 

"Damn!"  he  said,  and  dropped  it 

Mrs.  Dick  sat  on  the  cot  rolling  up  a  pink  rib- 
bon and  looked  at  him. 

"If  you  want  to  know  exactly  my  reason  for 
insisting  on  moving  to-night,  I'll  tell  you,"  she  said, 
paying  no  attention  to  me.  "It  is  your  disposition." 

He  didn't  say  anything,  but  he  put  his  foot  on  the 
potato  and  smashed  it. 

"If  I  had  to  be  shut  in  here  with  you  one  more 
day,"  she  went  on,  "I'd  hate  you." 

"Why  the  one  more  day?"  he  asked,  without 
looking  up. 

But  she  didn't  answer  him.  She  was  in  the 
worst  kind  of  a  temper ;  she  threw  the  ribbon  down, 
and  coming  over,  lifted  the  lid  of  my  basket  and 
looked  in. 


HOME  TO   ROOST  247 

"Ham  again!"  she  exclaimed  ungratefully. 
"Thanks  so  much  for  remembering  us,  Minnie.  I 
dare  say  our  dinner  to-day  slipped  your  mind !" 

"I  wonder  if  it  strikes  you,  Minnie,"  Mr.  Dick 
said,  noticing  me  for  the  first  time,  "that  if  you 
and  Sam  hadn't  been  so  confounded  meddling,  that 
fellow  Pierce  would  be  washing  buggies  in  the  vil- 
lage livery-stable  where  he  belongs,  and  I'd  be  in  one 
piece  of  property  that's  as  good  as  gone  this  min- 
ute." 

"Egg  salad  and  cheese!"  said  Mrs.  Dick.  "I'm 
sick  of  cheese.  If  that's  the  kind  of  supper  you've 
been  serving — " 

But  I  was  in  a  bad  humor,  anyhow,  and  I'd  had 
enough.  I  stood  just  inside  the  door  and  I  told 
them  I'd  done  the  best  I  could,  not  for  them,  but 
because  I'd  promised  the  old  doctor,  and  if  I'd  made 
mistakes  I'd  answer  for  them  to  him  if  I  ever  met 
him  in  the  next  world.  And  in  the  meantime  I 
washed  my  hands  of  the  whole  thing,  and  they 
might  make  out  as  best  they  could.  /  was  going. 

Mrs.  Dick  heard  me  through.  Then  she  came 
over  and  put  her  hand  on  mine  where  it  lay  on  the 
table. 


'248        WHERE   THERE'S   A  'WILII 

"You're  perfectly  right,"  she  said.  "I  know  how 
you  have  tried,  and  that  the  fault  is  all  that 
wretched  Pierce's.  You  mustn't  mind  Mr.  Carter, 
Minnie.  He's  been  in  that  sort  of  humor  all  day." 

He  looked  at  her  with  the  most  miserable  face  I 
ever  saw,  but  he  didn't  say  anything.  She  sighed, 
the  little  wretch. 

"We've  all  made  mistakes,"  she  said,  "and  not 
the  least  was  my  thinking  that  I — well,  never  mind. 
I  dare  say  we  will  manage  somehow." 

He  got  up  then,  his  face  twisted  with  misery. 

"Say  it,"  he  said.  "You  hate  me;  you  shiver  if 
I  touch  your  hand — oh,  I'm  not  very  keen,  but  I 
saw  that." 

"The  remedy  for  that  is  very  simple,"  she  re- 
plied coolly.  "You  needn't  touch  my  hand." 

"Stop!"  I  snapped.  "Just  stop  before  you  say 
something  you'll  be  sorry  for.  Of  course,  you  hate 
each  other.  It  beats  me,  anyhow,  why  two  people 
who  get  married  always  want  to  get  away  by  them- 
selves until  they're  so  sick  of  each  other  that  they 
don't  get  over  it  the  rest  of  their  lives.  The  only 
sensible  honeymoon  I  ever  heard  of  was  when  one 
of  the  chambermaids  here  married  a  farmer  in  the 


HOME   TO   ROOST  249 

neighborhood.  It  was  harvest  and  he  couldn't 
leave,  so  she  went  alone  to  see  her  folks  and  she 
said  it  beat  having  him  along  all  hollow." 

She  was  setting  out  the  supper,  putting  things 
down  with  a  bang.  He  didn't  move,  although  he 
must  have  been  starving. 

"Another  thing  I'd  advise,"  I  said.  "Eat  first 
and  talk  after.  You'll  see  things  different  after 
you've  got  something  in  your  stomach." 

"I  wish  you  wouldn't  meddle,  Minnie!"  she 
snapped,  and  having  put  down  her  own  plate  and 
knife  and  fork,  not  laying  a  place  for  him,  she  went 
over  and  tried  to  get  one  of  the  potatoes  from  the 
fire. 

Well,  she  burnt  her  finger,  or  pretended  to,  and 
I  guess  her  solution  was  as  good  as  mine,  for  she 
began  to  cry,  and  when  I  left  he  was  tying  it  up 
with  a  bit  of  his  handkerchief;  if  she  shivered  when 
he  kissed  it  I  didn't  notice  it.  They  were  to  come 
up  to  the  house  after  her  father  left  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  I  was  to  dismiss  all  the  old  help  and  get 
new  ones  so  he  could  take  charge  and  let  Mr.  Pierce 

I  plodded  back  with  my  empty  basket     I  had 


250         WHERE   THERE'S    A    WILL 

only  one  clear  thought, — that  I  wouldn't  have  anj 
more  tramping  across  the  golf  links  in  the  snow.  I 
was  too  tired  really  to  care  that  with  the  regular 
winter  boarders  gone  and  eight  weeks  still  until 
Lent,  we'd  hardly  be  able  to  keep  going  another 
fortnight  I  wanted  to  get  back  to  my  room  and 
go  to  bed  and  forget. 

But  as  I  came  near  the  house  I  saw  Mr.  Pierce 
come  out  on  the  front  piazza  and  switch  on  the 
lights.  He  stood  there  looking  out  into  the  snow, 
and  the  next  minute  I  saw  why.  Coming  up  the 
hill  and  across  the  lawn  was  a  shadowy  line  of  peo- 
ple, black  against  the  white.  They  were  not  speak- 
ing, and  they  moved  without  noise  over  the  snow. 
I  thought  for  a  minute  that  my  brain  had  gone 
wrong ;  then  the  first  figure  came  into  the  light,  and 
it  was  the  bishop.  He  stood  at  the  front  of  the 
steps  and  looked  up  at  Mr.  Pierce. 

"I  dare  say,"  he  said,  trying  to  look  easy,  "that 
this  is  sooner  than  you  expected  us!" 

Mr.  Pierce  looked  down  at  the  crowd.  Then  he 
smiled,  a  growing  smile  that  ended  in  a  grin. 

"On  the  contrary,"  he  said,  "I've  been  expecting 
you  for  an  hour  or  more." 


HOME  TO   ROOST  251 

The  procession  began  to  move  gloomily  up  the 
steps.  All  of  them  carried  hand  luggage,  and  they 
looked  tired  and  sheepish.  Miss  Cobb  stopped  in 
front  of  Mr.  Pierce. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say/'  she  demanded  furiously,. 
"that  you  knew  the  railroad  was  blocked  with  snow, 
and  yet  you  let  us  go !" 

"On  the  contrary,  Miss  Cobb,"  he  said  politely, 
"I  remember  distinctly  regretting  that  you  insisted 
on  going.  Besides,  there  was  the  Sherman  House." 

Senator  Briggs  stopped  in  front  of  him.  "Prob- 
ably you  also  knew  that  that  was  full,  including  the 
stables,  with  people  from  the  stalled  trains,"  he  as- 
serted furiously. 

Two  by  two  they  went  in  and  through  the  hall, 
stamping  the  snow  off,  and  up  to  their  old  rooms 
again,  leaving  Slocum,  the  clerk,  staring  at  them 
as  if  he  couldn't  believe  his  eyes. 

Mr.  Pierce  and  I  watched  from  the  piazza, 
through  the  glass. 

We  saw  Doctor  Barnes  stop  and  look,  and  then 
go  and  hang  over  the  news  stand  and  laugh  himself 
almost  purple,  and  we  saw  Mr.  Thoburn  bringing 
up  the  tail  of  the  procession  and  trying  to  look  un- 


252         WHERE   THERE'S    A   WILL 

concerned.  I  am  not  a  revengeful  woman,  but  that 
was  one  of  the  happiest  moments  of  my  life. 

Doctor  Barnes  turned  suddenly,  and  catching  me 
by  the  arm,  whirled  me  around  and  around,  singing 
wildly  something  about  Noah  and  "the  animals 
went  in  two  by  two,  the  elephant  and  the  kanga- 
roo." 

He  stopped  as  suddenly  as  he  began  and  walked 
me  to  the  door  again. 

"We've  got  'em  in  the  ark,"  he  said,  "but  I'm 
thinking  this  forty  days  of  snow  is  nearly  over, 
Minnie.  I  don't  think  much  of  the  dove  and  the 
olive-branch,  but  we've  got  to  keep  them." 

"It's  against  the  law,"  I  quavered. 

"Nonsense!"  he  said.  "We've  got  to  make  'em 
want  to  stay!" 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

BACK  TO  NATURE 

WE  gave  them  a  good  supper  and  Mr.  Pierce 
ordered  claret  served  without  extra  charge. 
By  eight  o'clock  they  were  all  in  better  humor,  and 
when  they'd  gathered  in  the  lobby  Miss  Summers 
gave  an  imitation  of  Marie  Dressier  doing  the  Sa- 
lome dance.  Every  now  and  then  somebody  would 
look  out  and  say  it  was  still  snowing,  and  with  the 
memory  of  the  drifts  and  the  cold  stove  in  the  rail- 
road station  behind  them,  they'd  gather  closer 
around  the  fire  and  insist  that  they  would  go  as 
soon  as  the  road  was  cleared. 

But  with  the  exception  of  Mr.  von  Inwald,  not 
one  of  them  really  wanted  to  go.  As  Doctor  Barnes 
said  over  the  news  stand,  each  side  was  bluffing  and 
wouldn't  call  the  other,  and  the  fellow  with  the 
most  nerve  would  win. 

"And,  oh,  my  aunt!"  he  said,  "what  a  sweet  dis- 
253 


254         WHERE   THERE'S   A  WILL 

position  the  von  Inwald  has!  Watch  him  going 
up  and  banging  his  head  against  the  wall!" 

Everybody  was  charmed  with  the  Salome  dance, 
especially  when  Miss  Summers  drew  the  cover  off 
a  meat  platter  she'd  been  dancing  around,  and  there 
was  Arabella  sitting  on  her  hind  legs,  with  a  card 
tied  to  her  neck,  and  the  card  said  that  at  eleven 
there  would  be  a  clambake  in  the  kitchen  for  all 
the  guests. 

(The  clambake  was  my  idea,  but  the  dog,  of 
course,  was  Miss  Julia's.  I  never  saw  a  woman  so 
full  of  ideas,  although  it  seems  that  what  should 
have  been  on  the  platter  was  the  head  of  somebody 
or  other.) 

Just  after  the  dance  I  saw  Mr.  von  Inwald  talk- 
ing to  Miss  Patty.  He  had  been  ugly  all  evening, 
and  now  he  looked  like  a  devil.  She  stood  facing 
him  with  her  head  thrown  back  and  her  fingers 
twisting  her  ruby  ring.  I  guessed  that  she  was 
about  as  much  surprised  as  anything  else,  people 
having  a  habit  of  being  pleasant  to  her  most  of  the 
time.  He  left  her  in  a  rage,  and  as  he  went  he  col- 
lided with  Arabella  and  kicked  her.  Miss  Patty 
went  white  but  Miss  Summers  was  not  a  bit  put 


BACK   TO    NATURE  255 

out.  She  simply  picked  up  the  howling  dog  and 
confronted  Mr.  von  Inwald. 

"Perhaps  you  didn't  notice,"  she  said  sweetly, 
"but  you  kicked  my  dog." 

"Why  don't  you  keep  her  out  of  the  way?"  he 
snarled,  and  they  stood  glaring  at  each  other. 

"Under  the  circumstances,  Arabella,"  Miss  Julia 
said — and  everybody  was  listening — "we  can  only 
withdraw  Mr.  von  Inwald's  invitation  to  the 
kitchen." 

"Thank  you,  I  had  not  intended  to  go,"  he  said 
furiously,  and  went  out  into  the  veranda,  slamming 
the  door  behind  him.  Mr.  Jennings  looked  up  from 
where  he  was  playing  chess  by  the  fire  and  nodded 
at  Miss  Summers. 

"Serves  him  right  for  his  temper!"  he  said. 

"Checkmate!"  said  the  bishop. 

Mr.  Jennings  turned  and  glared  at  the  board. 
Then  with  one  sweep  he  threw  all  the  chessmen  on 
the  floor.  As  Tillie  said  later,  it  would  be  a  pity 
to  spoil  two  houses  with  Mr.  von  Inwald  and  Mr. 
Jennings.  If  they  were  in  the  same  family  they 
could  work  it  off  on  each  other. 

Miss  Patty  came  down  to  the  news  stand  and 


256         WHERE   THERE'S    A    WILL 

pretended  to  hunt  for  a  magazine.  I  reached  over 
and  stroked  her  hand.  "Don't  take  it  too  hard, 
dearie,"  I  said.  "He's  put  out  to-night,  and  maybe 
he  isn't  well.  Men  are  like  babies.  If  their  stom- 
achs are  all  right  and  have  plenty  in  them,  they're 
pleasant  enough.  It's  been  my  experience  that  your 
cranky  man's  a  sick  man." 

"I  don't  think  he  is  sick,  Minnie,"  she  said,  with 
a  catch  in  her  voice.  "I — I  think  he  is  just  dev— 
devilish !" 

Well,  I  thought  that  too,  so  I  just  stroked  her 
hand,  and  after  a  minute  she  got  her  color  again. 
"It  is  hard  for  him,"  she  said.  "He  thinks  this  is 
all  vulgar  and  American,  and — oh,  Minnie,  I  want 
to  get  away,  and  yet  what  shall  I  do  without  you  to 
keep  me  sensible." 

"You'll  be  a  long  ways  off  soon,"  I  said,  touch- 
ing the  ring  under  my  hand. 

"I  wish  you  could  come  with  me,"  she  said,  but  I 
shook  my  head. 

"Here  is  one  dog  that  isn't  going  to  sit  under 
any  rich  man's  table  and  howl  for  crumbs,"  I  an- 
swered. "If  he  kicked  me,  I'd  bite  him." 

At  eleven  o'clock  we  had  the  clambake  with  beer 


BACK  TO   NATURE  257 

in  the  kitchen,  and  Mr.  von  Inwald  came,  after  all. 
They  were  really  very  cheerful.,  all  of  them.  Doc- 
tor Barnes  insisted  that  Senator  Biggs  must  not 
fast  any  longer,  and  he  ate  by  my  count  three  dozen 
clams.  At  the  end,  when  everybody  was  happy 
and  everything  forgiven,  Mr.  Pierce  got  up  and 
made  a  speech. 

He  said  he  was  sorry  for  what  had  happened 
that  day,  but  that  much  he  had  said  he  still  main- 
tained: that  to  pretend  to  make  people  well  in  the 
way  most  sanatoriums  did  it  was  sheer  folly,  and  he 
felt  his  responsibility  too  keenly  to  countenance  a 
system  that  was  clearly  wrong  and  that  the  best 
modern  thought  considered  obsolete. 

Miss  Cobb  sat  up  at  that;  she  is  always  talking 
about  the  best  modern  thought. 

He  said  that  perfect  health,  clear  skins,  bright 
eyes — he  looked  at  the  women,  and  except  for  Miss 
Patty,  there  wasn't  an  honest  complexion  or  a 
bright  eye  in  the  lot — keen  appetites  and  joy  of 
living  all  depended  on  rational  and  simple  living. 

"Hear,  hear!"  said  the  men. 

"The  nearer  we  live  to  nature,  the  better,"  said 
Senator  Biggs  oracularly. 


258         WHERE   THERE'S    A    WILL 

"Back  to  nature,"  shouted  Mr.  Moody  through  a 
clam. 

"Exactly,"  Mr.  Pierce  said,  smiling. 

Mrs.  Moody  looked  alarmed.  "You  don't  mean 
doing  without  clothes — and  all  that!"  she  protested. 

"Surely!"  Miss  Summers  said,  holding  up  her 
beer  glass.  "A  toast,  everybody!  Back  to  nature, 
sans  rats,  sans  rouge,  sans  stays,  sans  everything. 
I'll  need  to  wear  a  tag  with  my  name  on  it.  No- 
body will  recognize  me !" 

Mr.  Pierce  got  up  again  at  the  head  of  the  long 
kitchen  table  and  said  he  merely  meant  rational  liv- 
ing— more  air,  more  exercise,  simpler  food  and  bet- 
ter hours.  It  was  being  done  now  in  a  thousand 
fresh-air  farms,  and  succeeding.  Men  went  back  to 
their  business  clearer-headed  and  women  grew  more 
beautiful. 

At  that,  what  with  the  reaction  from  sitting  in  the 
cold  station,  and  the  beer  and  everything,  they  all 
grew  enthusiastic.  Doctor  Barnes  made  a  speech, 
telling  that  he  used  to  be  puny  and  weak,  and  how  he 
went  into  training  and  became  a  pugilist,  and  how 
he'd  fought  the  Tennessee  something  or  other — the 
men  nodded  as  if  they  knew — and  licked  him  in 


BACK   TO    NATURE  259 

forty  seconds  or  forty  rounds,  I'm  not  sure  which. 
The  men  were  standing  on  their  chairs  cheering  for 
him,  and  even  Mr.  Jennings,  who'd  been  sitting  and 
not  saying  much,  said  he  thought  probably  there  was 
something  in  it 

They  ended  by  agreeing  to  try  it  out  for  a  week, 
beginning  with  the  morning,  when  everybody  was 
to  be  down  for  breakfast  by  seven-thirty.  Mr. 
Thoburn  got  up  and  made  a  speech,  protesting  that 
they  didn't  know  what  they  were  letting  themselves 
in  for,  and  ended  up  by  demanding  to  know  if  he 
was  expected  to  breakfast  at  seven-thirty. 

"Yes,  or  earlier,"  Mr.  Pierce  said  pleasantly.  "I 
suppose  you  could  have  something  at  seven." 

"And  suppose  I  refuse?"  he  retorted  disagree- 
ably. 

But  everybody  turned  on  him,  and  said  if  they 
could  do  it,  he  could,  and  he  sat  down  again.  Then 
somebody  suggested  that  if  they  were  to  get  up 
they'd  have  to  go  to  bed,  and  the  party  broke  up. 

Doctor  Barnes  helped  me  gather  up  the  clam 
shells  and  the  plates. 

"It's  a  risky  business,"  he  said.  "To-night 
doesn't  mean  anything ;  they're  carried  away  by  the 


260 

reaction  and  the  desire  for  something  new.  The 
next  week  will  tell  the  tale." 

"If  we  could  only  get  rid  of  Mr.  Thoburn!"  I 
exclaimed. 

Doctor  Barnes  chuckled. 

"We  may  not  get  rid  of  him,"  he  said,  "but  I  can 
promise  him  the  most  interesting  week  of  his  life. 
He'll  be  too  busy  for  mischief.  I'm  going  to  take 
six  inches  off  his  waist  line." 

Well,  in  a  half-hour  or  so  I  had  cleared  away, 
and  I  went  out  to  the  lobby  to  lock  up  the  news 
stand.  Just  as  I  opened  the  door  from  the  back 
hall,  however,  I  heard  two  people  talking. 

It  was  Miss  Pat  and  Mr.  Pierce.  She  was  on 
the  stairs  and  he  in  the  hall  below,  looking  up. 

"I  don't  want  to  stay!"  she  was  saying. 

"But  don't  you  see?"  he  argued.  "If  you  go,  the 
others  will.  Can't  you  try  it  for  a  week?" 

"I  quite  understand  your  motive,"  she  said,  look- 
ing down  at  him  more  pleasantly  than  she'd  ever 
done,  "and  it's  very  good  of  you  and  all  that.  But 
if  you'd  only  left  things  as  they  were,  and  let  us 
all  go,  and  other  people  come — 

"That's  just  it,"  he  said.     "I'm  told  it's  the  bad 


BACK   TO   NATURE  261 

season  and  nobody  else  would  come  until  Lent. 
And,  anyhow,  it's  not  business  to  let  a  lot  of  people 
go  away  angrj.  It  gives  the  place  a  black  eye." 

"Dear  me,"  she  said,  "how  businesslike  you  are 
growing !" 

He  went  orer  close  to  the  stairs  and  dropped  his 
voice. 

"If  you  want  the  bitter  truth,"  he  went  on,  try- 
ing to  smile,  "I've  put  myself  on  trial  and  been 
convicted  of  being  a  fool  and  a  failure.  I've  failed 
regularly  and  with  precision  at  everything  I  have 
tried.  I've  been  going  around  so  long  trying  to 
find  a  place  that  I  fit  into,  that  I'm  scarred  as  with 
many  battles.  And  now  I'm  on  probation — for  the 
last  time.  If  this  doesn't  go,  I — I — " 

"What?"  she  asked,  leaning  down  to  him. 
"You'll  not— " 

"Oh,  no,"  lie  said,  "nothing  dramatic,  of  course.  I 
could  go  around  the  country  in  a  buggy  selling  light- 
ning-rods— " 

She  drew  herself  back  as  if  she  resented  his  re- 
fusal of  her  sympathy. 

"Or  open  a  saloon  in  the  Philippines !"  he  fin- 
ished mockingly.  "There's  a  living  in  that." 


262         WHERE    THERE'S    A    WILL 

"You  are  impossible,"  she  said,  and  turned  away. 

Oh,  I  haven't  any  excuse  to  make  for  him!  I 
think  he  was  just  hungry  for  her  sympathy  and  her 
respect,  knowing  nothing  else  was  coming  to  him. 
But  the  minute  they  grew  a  bit  friendly  he  seemed 
to  remember  the  prince,  and  that,  according  to  his 
idea  of  it,  she  was  selling  herself,  and  he  would  draw 
off  and  look  at  her  in  a  mocking  unhappy  way  that 
made  me  want  to  slap  him. 

He  watched  her  up  the  stairs  and  then  turned 
and  walked  to  the  fire,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets 
and  his  head  down. 

I  closed  the  news  stand  and  he  came  over  just  as 
I  was  hanging  up  the  cigar-case  key  for  Amanda 
King  in  the  morning.  He  reached  up  and  took  the 
key  off  its  nail. 

"I'll  keep  that,"  he  said.  "It's  no  tobacco  after 
this,  Minnie." 

"You  can't  keep  them  here,  then,"  I  retorted. 
"They've  got  to  smoke;  it's  the  only  work  they  do." 

"We'll  see,"  he  said  quietly.  "And — oh,  yes, 
Minnie,  now  that  we  shall  not  be  using  the  mineral 
spring — " 


BACK  TO   NATURE  263 

"Not  use  the  mineral  spring!"  I  repeated,  stupe- 
fied. 

"Certainly  not!"  he  said.  "This  is  a  drugless 
sanatorium,  Minnie,  from  now  on.  That's  part  of 
the  theory — no  drugs." 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you  one  thing,"  I  snapped,  "theory 
or  no  theory,  you've  got  to  have  drugs.  No  theory 
that  I  ever  heard  of  is  going  to  cure  Mr.  Moody'? 
indigestion  and  Miss  Cobb's  neuralgia." 

"They  won't  have  indigestion  and  neuralgia." 

"Or  Amanda  King's  toothache." 

"We  won't  have  Amanda  King." 

He  put  his  elbow  on  the  stand  and  smiled  at  me. 

"Listen,  Minnie,"  he  said.  "If  you  hadn't  been 
wasting  your  abilities  in  the  mineral  spring,  I'd  be 
sorry  to  close  it.  But  there  will  be  plenty  for  you 
to  do.  Don't  you  know  that  the  day  of  the  medi- 
cine-closet in  the  bath-room  and  the  department- 
store  patent-remedy  counter  is  over?  We've  got 
sanitarians  now  instead  of  family  doctors.  In  other 
words,  we  put  in  good  sanitation  systems  and  don't 
need  the  plumber  and  his  repair  kit." 

"The  pharmacy  ?"  I  said  between  my  teeth. 


264         WHERE   THERE'S    A   WILL 

"Closed  also.  No  medicine,  Minnie.  That's  our 
slogan.  This  is  the  day  of  prophylaxis.  The  doc- 
tors have  taken  a  step  in  the  right  direction  and 
are  giving  fewer  drugs.  Christian  Science  has 
abolished  drugs  and  established  the  healer.  We 
simply  abolish  the  healer." 

"If  we're  not  going  to  use  the  spring-house,  we 
might  have  saved  the  expense  of  the  new  roof  in 
the  fall,"  I  said  bitterly. 

"Not  at  all.  For  two  hours  or  so  a  day  the 
spring-house  will  be  a  rest-house — windows  wide 
open  and  God's  good  air  penetrating  to  fastnesses 
it  never  knew  before." 

"The  spring  will  freeze!" 

"Exactly.  My  only  regret  is  that  it  is  too  small 
to  skate  on.  But  they'll  have  the  ice  pond." 

"When  I  see  Mr.  Moody  skating  on  the  ice 
pond,"  I  said  sarcastically,  "I'll  see  Mrs.  Moody 
dead  with  the  shock  on  the  bank." 

"Not  at  all,"  he  replied  calmly.  "You'll  see  her 
skating,  too."  And  with  that  he  went  to  bed. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

LIKE  DUCKS  TO  WATER 

THEY  took  to  it  like  ducks  take  to  water.  Not, 
of  course,  that  they  didn't  kick  about  making 
their  own  beds  and  having  military  discipline  gen- 
erally. They  complained  a  lot,  but  when  after  three 
days  went  by  with  the  railroad  running  as  much  on 
schedule  as  it  ever  does,  they  were  all  still  there,  and 
Mr.  Jennings  had  limped  out  and  spent  a  half-hour 
at  the  wood-pile  with  his  gouty  foot  on  a  cushion,  I 
saw  it  was  a  success. 

I  ought  to  have  been  glad.  I  was,  although 
when  Mrs.  Dicky  found  they  were  all  staying,  and 
that  she  might  have  to  live  in  the  shelter-house  the 
rest  of  the  winter,  there  was  an  awful  scene.  I  was 
glad,  too.  every  time  I  could  see  Mr.  Thoburn's 
gloomy  face,  or  hear  the  things  he  said  when  his 
name  went  up  for  the  military  walk. 

(Oh  yes,  we  had  a  blackboard  in  the  hall,  and 
every  morning  each  guest  looked  to  see  if  it  was 

265 


266 

wood-pile  day  or  military-walk  day.  At  first,  in- 
stead of  wood-pile,  it  was  walk-clearing  day,  but 
they  soon  had  the  snow  off  all  the  paths. ) 

As  I  say,  I  was  glad.  It  looked  as  if  the  new 
idea  was  a  success,  although  as  Doctor  Barnes  said, 
nobody  could  really  tell  until  new  people  began  to 
come.  That  was  the  real  test.  They  had  turned 
the  baths  into  a  gymnasium  and  they  had  beginners' 
classes  and  advanced  classes,  and  a  prize  offered  on 
the  blackboard  of  a  cigar  for  the  man  who  made 
the  most  muscular  improvement  in  a  week.  The 
bishop  won  it  the  first  week,  being  the  only  one  who 
could  lie  on  his  back  and  raise  himself  to  a  sitting 
position  without  helping  himself  with  his  hands.  As 
Mrs.  Moody  said,  it  would  be  easy  enough  if  some- 
body only  sat  on  one's  feet  to  hold  them  down. 

But  I  must  say  I  never  got  over  the  shock  of  see- 
ing the  spring-house  drifted  with  snow,  all  the  win- 
dows wide  open,  the  spring  frozen  hard,  and  people 
sitting  there  during  the  rest  hour,  in  furs  and 
steamer  rugs,  trying  to  play  cards  with  mittens  on 
—their  hands,  not  the  cards,  of  course — and  not 
wrangling.  I  was  lonesome  for  it! 

I  hadn't  much  to  do,  except  from  two  to  four  to 


LIKE    DUCKS   TO    WATER          267 

be  at  the  spring-house,  and  to  count  for  the  deep- 
breathing  exercise.  Oh,  yes,  we  had  that,  too!  I 
rang  a  bell  every  half -hour  and  everybody  got  up, 
and  I  counted  slowly  "one"  and  they  breathed  in 
through  their  noses,  and  "two"  and  they  exhaled 
quickly  through  their  mouths.  I  guess  most  of 
them  used  more  of  their  lungs  than  they  ever  knew 
they  had. 

Well,  everybody  looked  better  and  felt  better, 
although  they  wouldn't  all  acknowledge  it.  Miss 
Cobb  suffered  most,  not  having  the  fire  log  to  curl 
her  hair  with.  But  as  she  said  herself,  between 
gymnasium  and  military  walks,  and  the  silence 
hour,  and  eating,  which  took  a  long  time,  everybody 
being  hungry — and  going  to  bed  at  nine,  she  didn't 
see  how  she  could  have  worried  with  it,  anyhow. 
The  fat  ones,  of  course,  objected  to  an  apple  and 
a  cup  of  hot  water  for  breakfast,  but  except  Mr. 
Thoburn,  they  all  realized  it  was  for  the  best.  He 
wasn't  there  for  his  health,  he  said,  having  never 
had  a  sick  day  in  his  life,  but  when  he  saw  it  was 
apple  and  hot  water  or  leave,  he  did  like  Adam — 
he  took  the  apple. 

The  strange  thing  of  all  was  the  way  they  began 


268         WHERE   THERE'S   A   WILL 

to  look  up  to  Mr.  Pierce.  He  was  very  strict;  if 
he  made  a  rule,  it  was  obey  or  leave.  (As  they 
knew  after  Mr.  Moody  refused  to  take  the  military 
walk,  and  was  presented  with  his  bill  and  a  railroad 
schedule  within  an  hour.  He  had  to  take  the  mili- 
tary walk  with  Doctor  Barnes  that  afternoon 
alone.)  They  had  to  respect  a  man  who  could  do 
all  the  things  in  the  gymnasium  that  they  couldn't, 
and  come  in  from  a  ten  or  fifteen-mile  tramp 
through  the  snow  and  take  a  cold  plunge  and  a 
swim  to  rest  himself. 

It  was  on  Monday  that  we  really  got  things 
started,  and  on  Monday  afternoon  Miss  Summers 
came  out  to  the  shelter-house  in  a  towering  rage. 

"Where's  Mr.  Pierce?"  she  demanded. 

"I  guess  you  can  see  he  isn't  here,"  I  said. 

"Just  wait  until  I  see  him!"  she  announced.  "Do 
you  know  that  I  am  down  on  the  blackboard  for 
the  military  walk  to-day? — I!" 

"Why  not?" 

She  turned  and  glared  at  me.  "Why  not?"  she 
repeated.  "Why,  the  audacity  of  the  wretch !  He 
brings  me  out  into  the  country  in  winter  to  play  in 
his  atrocious  play,  strands  me,  and  then  tells  me 


LIKE   DUCKS   TO   WATER         269 

to  walk  twenty  miles  a  day  and  smile  over  it !"  She 
came  over  to  me  and  shook  my  arm.  "Not  only 
that,"  she  said,  "but  he  has  cut  out  my  cigarettes 
and  put  Arabella  on  dog  biscuit — Arabella,  who 
can  hardly  eat  a  chicken  wing." 

"Well,  there's  something  to  be  thankful  for,"  I 
said.  "He  didn't  put  you  on  dog  biscuit." 

She  laughed  then,  with  one  of  her  quick  changes 
of  humor. 

"The  worst  of  it  is,"  she  said,  in  a  confidential 
whisper,  "I'll  do  it.  I  feel  it.  I  guess  if  the  truth 
were  known  I'm  some  older  than  he  is,  but — I'm 
afraid  of  him,  Minnie.  Little  Judy  is  ready  to 
crawl  around  and  speak  for  a  cracker  or  a  kind 
word.  Oh,  I'm  not  in  love  with  him,  but  he's  got 
the  courage  to  say  what  he  means  and  do  what  he 
says." 

She  went  to  the  door  and  looked  back  smiling. 

"I'm  off  for  the  wood-pile,"  she  called  over  her 
shoulder.  "I've  promised  to  chop  two  inches  off  my 
heels." 

As  I  say,  they  took  to  it  like  ducks  to  water — • 
except  two  of  them,  von  Inwald  and  Thoburn.  Mr. 
von  Inwald  stayed  on,  I  hardly  know  why,  but  I 


270         WHERE   THERE'S    A  .WILL 

guess  it  was  because  Mr.  Jennings  still  hadn't  dont 
anything  final  about  settlements,  and  with  the 
newspapers  marrying  him  every  day  it  wasn't  very 
comfortable.  Next  to  him,  Mr.  Thoburn  was  the 
unhappiest  mortal  I  have  ever  seen.  He  wouldn't 
leave,  and  with  Doctor  Barnes  carrying  out  his 
threat  to  take  six  inches  off  his  waist,  he  stopped 
measuring  window-frames  with  a  tape  line  and  took 
to  measuring  himself. 

I  came  across  him  on  Wednesday — the  third 
day — straggling  home  from  the  military  walk.  He 
and  Mr.  von  Inwald  limped  across  the  tennis-court 
and  collapsed  on  the  steps  of  the  spring-house  while 
the  others  went  on  to  the  sanatorium.  I  had  been 
brushing  the  porch,  and  I  leaned  on  my  broom  and 
looked  at  them. 

"You're  both  looking  a  lot  better,"  I  said.  "Not 
so — well,  not  so  beer-y.  How  do  you  like  it  by  this 
time?" 

"Fine!"  answered  Mr.  Thoburn.  "Wouldn't 
stay  if  I  didn't  like  it." 

"Wouldn't  you?" 

"But  I'll  tell  you  this,  Minnie,"  he  said,  changing 
his  position  with  a  groan  to  look  up  at  me,  "some- 


LIKE    DUCKS   TO   WATER          271 

body  ought  to  warn  that  young  man.  Human  na- 
ture can  stand  a  lot  but  it  can't  stand  everything. 
He's  overdoing  it!" 

'They  like  it,"  I  said. 

"They  think  they  do,"  he  retorted.  "Mark  my 
words,  Minnie,  if  he  adds  another  mile  to  the  walk 
to-morrow  there  will  be  a  mutiny.  Kingdoms  may 
be  lost  by  an  extra  blister  on  a  heel." 

Mr.  von  Inwald  had  been  sitting  with  his  feet 
straight  out,  scowling,  but  now  he  turned  and  looked 
at  me  coolly. 

"All  that  keeps  me  here,"  he  said,  "is  Minnie's 
lovely  hair.  It  takes  me  mentally  back  home,  Min- 
nie, to  a  lovely  lady — may  I  have  a  bit  of  it  to  keep 
by  me?" 

"You  may  not,"  I  retorted  angrily. 

"Oh !  The  lovely  lady — but  never  mind  that.  For 
the  sake  of  my  love  for  you,  Minnie,  find  me  a  ciga- 
rette, like  a  good  girl !  I  am  desolate." 

"There's  no  tobacco  on  the  place,"  I  said  firmly, 
and  went  on  with  my  sweeping. 

"When  I  was  a  boy,"  Mr.  Thoburn  remarked, 
looking  out  thoughtfully  over  the  snow,  "we  made 
a  sort  of  cigarette  out  of  corn-silk.  You  don't 


272         WHERE  'THERE'S    A    WILU 

happen  to  have  any  corn-silk  about,  do  you,  Min- 
nie?" 

"No,"  I  said  shortly.  "If  you  take  my  advice, 
Mr.  Thoburn,  you'll  go  back  to  town.  You  can  get 
all  the  tobacco  you  want  there — and  you're  wasting 
your  time  here."  I  leaned  on  my  broom  and  looked 
down  at  him,  but  he  was  stretching  out  his  foot  and 
painfully  working  his  ankle  up  and  down. 

"Am  I?"  he  asked,  looking  at  his  foot  "Well, 
don't  count  on  it  too  much,  Minnie.  You  always 
inspire  me,  and  sitting  here  I've  just  thought  of 
something." 

He  got  up  and  hobbled  off  the  porch,  followed 
by  Mr.  von  Inwald.  I  saw  him  say  something  to 
Mr.  von  Inwald,  who  threw  back  his  head  and 
laughed.  Then  I  saw  them  stop  and  shake  hands 
and  go  on  again  in  deep  conversation.  I  felt 
uneasy. 

Doctor  Barnes  came  out  that  afternoon  and 
watched  me  while  I  closed  the  windows.  He  had  a 
package  in  his  hand.  He  sat  on  the  railing  of  the 
spring  and  looked  at  me. 

"You're  not  warmly  enough  dressed  for  this  kind 


LIKE   DUCKS   TO   WATER          273 

of  thing,"  he  remarked.  "Where's  that  gray  rab- 
bits' fur,  or  whatever  it  is?" 

"If  you  mean  my  chinchillas,"  I  said,  "they're  in 
their  box.  Chinchillas  are  as  delicate  as  babies  and 
not  near  so  plentiful.  I'm  warm  enough." 

"You  look  it."  He  reached  over  and  caught  one 
of  my  hands.  "Look  at  that!  Blue  nails!  It's 
about  four  degrees  above  zero  here,  and  while  the 
rest  are  wrapped  in  furs  and  steamer  rugs,  with  hot- 
water  bottles  at  their  feet,  you've  got  on  a  shawl. 
I'll  bet  you  two  dollars  you  haven't  got  on  any — 
er — winter  flannels." 

"I  never  bet,"  I  retorted,  and  went  on  folding  up 
the  steamer  rugs. 

"I'd  like  to  help,"  he  said,  "but  you're  so  darned 
capable,  Miss  Minnie — " 

"You  might  see  if  you  can  get  the  slot-machine 
empty,"  I  said.  "It's  full  of  water.  It  wouldn't 
work  and  Mr.  Moody  thought  it  was  frozen.  He's 
been  carrying  out  boiling  water  all  afternoon.  If 
it  stays  in  there  and  freezes  the  thing  will  explode." 

He  wasn't  listening.  He'd  been  fussing  with  his 
package  and  now  he  opened  it  and  handed  it  to  me, 
in  the  paper. 


274         WHERE   THERE'S    A   .WILL 

"It's  a  sweater,"  he  said,  not  looking  at  me.  "I 
bought  it  for  myself  and  it  was  too  small —  Con- 
found it,  Minnie,  I  wish  I  could  lie !  I  bought  them 
for  you !  There's  the  whole  business — sweater,  cap, 
leggings  and  mittens.  Go  on !  Throw  them  at  me !" 

But  I  didn't.  I  looked  at  them,  all  white  and 
soft,  and  it  came  over  me  suddenly  how  kind  peo- 
ple had  been  lately,  and  how  much  I'd  been  getting 
— the  old  doctor's  waistcoat  buttons  and  Miss  Pat's 
furs,  and  now  this !  I  just  buried  my  face  in  them 
and  cried. 

Doctor  Barnes  stood  by  and  said  nothing.  Some 
men  wouldn't  have  understood,  but  he  did.  After  a 
minute  or  so  he  came  over  and  pulled  the  sweater  out 
from  the  bundle. 

"I'm  glad  you  like  'em,"  he  said,  "but  as  I 
bought  them  at  Hubbard's,  in  Finleyville,  and  as 
the  old  liar  guaranteed  they  wouldn't  shrink,  we'd 
better  not  cry  on  'em." 

Well,  I  put  them  on  and  I  was  warmer  and  hap- 
pier than  I  had  been  for  some  time.  But  that  night 
when  I  went  out  to  the  shelter-house  with  the  supper 
basket  I  found  both  the  honey mooners  in  a  wild 


"  I   never  bet,— "   I   retorted. 


LIKE   DUCKS   TO   WATER         275 

state  of  excitement.  They  said  that  about  five 
o'clock  Thoburn  had  gone  out  to  the  shelter-house 
and  walked  all  around  it.  Finally  he  had  stopped  at 
one  of  the  windows  of  the  other  room,  had  worked 
at  it  with  his  penknife  and  got  it  open,  and  crawled 
through.  They  sat  paralyzed  with  fright,  and  heard 
him  moving  around  the  other  room,  and  he  even  tried 
their  door.  But  it  had  been  locked.  They  hadn't  the 
slightest  idea  what  he  was  doing,  but  after  perhaps 
ten  minutes  he  went  away,  going  out  the  door  this 
time  and  taking  the  key  with  him. 

Mr.  Dick  had  gone  in  when  he  was  safely  gone, 
but  he  could  see  nothing  unusual,  except  that  the 
door  of  the  cupboard  in  the  corner  was  standing 
open  and  there  was  a  brand-new,  folding,  foot  rule 
in  it. 

That  day  the  bar  was  closed  for  good,  and  there 
was  a  good  bit  of  fussing.  To  add  to  the  trouble, 
that  evening  at  dinner  the  pastries  were  cut  off,  and 
at  eight  o'clock  a  delegation  headed  by  Senator 
Biggs  visited  Mr.  Pierce  in  the  office  and  demanded 
pastry  put  back  on  the  menu  and  the  stewed  fruit 
taken  off.  But  Mr.  Pierce  was  firm  and  they  came 


276         WHERE   THERE'S    A   WILL 

out  pretty  well  subdued.  It  was  that  night,  I  think, 
that  candles  were  put  in  the  bedrooms,  and  all  the 
electric  lights  were  turned  off  at  nine-thirty. 

At  ten  o'clock  I  took  my  candle  and  went  to  Mr. 
Pierce's  sitting-room  door.  I  didn't  think  they'd 
stand  much  more  and  I  wanted  to  tell  him  so.  No- 
body answered  and  I  opened  the  door.  He  was 
asleep,  face  down  on  the  hearth-rug  in  front  of  the 
fire.  His  candle  was  lighted  on  the  floor  beside 
him  and  near  it  lay  a  newspaper  cutting  crumpled 
in  a  ball.  I  picked  it  up.  It  was  a  list  of  the  bridal 
party  for  Miss  Patty's  wedding. 

I  dropped  it  where  I  found  it  and  went  out  and 
knocked  again  loudly.  He  wakened  after  a  minute 
and  came  to  the  door  with  the  candle  in  his  hand. 

"Oh,  it's  you,  Minnie.   Come  in !" 

I  went  in  and  put  my  candle  on  the  table. 

"I've  got  to  talk  to  you,"  I  said.  "I  don't  mind 
admitting  things  have  been  going  pretty  well,  but — 
they  won't  stand  for  the  candles.  You  mark  my 
words." 

"If  they'll  stand  for  the  bar  being  closed,  why 
not  the  candles?"  he  demanded. 

"Well,"   I   said,    "they   can't   have   electric  light 


LIKE   DUCKS   TO   WATER          277 

sent  up  in  boxes  and  labeled  'books/  but  they  can 
get  liquor  that  way." 

He  whistled,  and  then  he  laughed. 

"Then  we'll  not  have  any  books,"  he  said.  "I 
guess  they  can  manage.  'My  only  books  were 
woman's  looks — '  "  and  then  he  saw  the  ball  of  pa- 
per on  the  floor  and  his  expression  changed.  He 
walked  over  and  picked  it  up,  smoothing  it  out  on 
the  palm  of  his  hand. 

After  a  minute  he  looked  up  at  me. 

"I  haven't  been  to  the  shelter-house  to-day.  They 
are  all  right?" 

"They're  nervous.  With  everybody  walking 
these  days  they  daren't  venture  a  nose  out  of 
doors." 

He  was  still  holding  the  clipping. 

"And — Miss  Jennings !"  he  said.  "She — I  think 
she  looks  better." 

"Her  father's  in  a  better  humor  for  one  thing 
— says  Abraham  Lincoln  split  logs,  and  that  it  beats 
massage." 

I  had  been  standing  in  the  doorway,  but  he  took 
me  by  the  arm  and  drew  me  into  the  room. 

"I  wish  you'd  sit  down  for  about  ten  minutes, 


278        WHERE   THERE'S   A   WILL 

Minnie,"  he  said.  "I  guess  every  fellow  has  a  time 
when  he's  got  to  tell  his  troubles  to  some  good 
woman — not  but  that  you  know  mine  already. 
You're  as  shrewd  as  you  are  kind." 

I  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  a  chair.  For  all  I  had 
had  so  much  to  do  with  the  sanatorium,  I  never  for- 
got that  I  was  only  the  spring-house  girl.  He 
threw  himself  back  in  his  easy  chair,  with  the  candle 
behind  him  on  the  table  and  his  arms  above  his  head. 

"It's  like  this,  Minnie,"  he  said.  "Mr.  Jennings 
likes  the  new  order  of  things  and — he's  going  to 
stay." 

I  nodded. 

"And  I  like  it  here.  I  want  to  stay.  It's  the 
one  thing  I've  found  that  I  think  I  can  do.  It  isn't 
what  I've  dreamed  of,  but  it's  worth  while.  To 
anchor  the  derelicts  of  humanity  in  a  sort  of  re- 
pair dock  here,  and  scrape  the  barnacles  off  their 
dispositions,  and  send  them  out  shipshape  again, 
surely  that's  something.  And  I  can  do  it." 

I  nodded  again. 

"But  if  the  Jenningses  stay—  "  he  looked  at  me. 
"Minnie,  in  heaven's  name,  what  am  I  going  to  do 
if  she  stays?" 


LIKE    DUCKS    TO    WATER          279 

"I  don't  know,  Mr.  Pierce,"  I  said.  "I  couldn't 
sleep  last  night  for  thinking  about  it." 

He  smoothed  out  the  paper  and  looked  at  it  again, 
but  I  think  he  scarcely  saw  it. 

'The  situation  is  humorous,"  he  said,  "only  my 
sense  of  humor  seems  to  have  died.  She  doesn't 
know  I  exist,  except  to  invent  new  and  troublesome 
regulations  for  her  annoyance.  She  is  very  sweet 
when  she  meets  me,  but  only  because  I  am  help- 
ing her  to  have  her  own  way.  And  I — my  God, 
Minnie,  I  sit  in  the  office  and  listen  for  her  step 
outside !" 

He  moved  a  little  and  held  out  the  paper  in  the 
candle-light. 

"  'It  will  please  Americans  to  know,'  "  he  read, 
"  'that  with  the  exception  of  the  Venetian  lace  robe 
sent  by  the  bridegroom's  mother,  all  of  Miss  Patri- 
cia Jennings'  elaborate  trousseau  is  being  made  in 
America. 

'  'Prince  Oskar  and  his  suite,  according  to  pres- 
ent arrangements,  will  sail  from  Naples  early  in 
March,  and  the  wedding  date,  although  not  yet 
definitely  fixed,  will  probably  be  the  first  week  in 
April.  The  wedding  party  will  include— 


280        WHERE   THERE'S    A   WILL 

He  stopped  there,  and  looked  at  me,  trying  to 
smile. 

"I  knew  it  all  before,"  he  said,  "but  there's  some- 
thing inevitable  about  print.  I  guess  I  hadn't  real- 
ized it." 

He  had  the  same  look  of  wretchedness  he'd  had 
the  first  night  I  saw  him — a  hungry  look — and  I 
couldn't  help  it ;  I  went  over  to  him  and  patted  him 
on  the  head  like  a  little  boy.  I  was  only  the  spring- 
house  girl,  but  I  was  older  than  he  was,  and  he 
needed  somebody  to  comfort  him. 

"I  can't  think  of  anything  to  say  that  will  help 
any,"  I  said,  "unless  it's  what  you  wrote  yourself 
on  the  blackboard  down  in  the  hall,  'Keep  busy 
and  you'll  keep  happy.' ' 

He  reached  up  for  my  hand,  and  rough  and  red 
as  it  was — having  been  in  the  spring  for  so  many 
years — he  kissed  it. 

"Good  for  you,  Minnie!"  he  said.  "You're  ra- 
tional, and  for  a  day  or  so  I  haven't  been.  That's 
right,  keep  busy.  I'll  do  it."  He  got  up  and  put 
his  hands  on  my  shoulders.  "Good  old  pal,  when 
you  see  me  going  around  as  if  all  the  devils  of  hell 


LIKE   DUCKS   TO   WATER          281 

were  tormenting  me,  just  come  up  and  say  that  to 
me,  will  you?" 

I  promised,  and  he  opened  the  door,  candle  in 
hand,  and  smiling. 

"I'm  a  thousand  per  cent,  better  already,"  he 
said.  "I  just  needed  to  tell  somebody,  I  think.  I 
dare  say  I've  made  a  lot  more  fuss  than  it  really 
deserves." 

At  the  far  end  of  the  hall,  a  girl  came  out  of  one 
room,  and  carrying  a  candle,  went  across  to  another. 
It  was  Miss  Patty,  going  to  bid  her  father  good 
night.  When  I  left,  he  was  still  staring  down  the 
hall  after  her,  his  candle  dripping  wax  on  the  floor, 
and  his  face  white.  I  guess  he  hadn't  overstated 
his  case. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE   FIRST   FRUITS 

BY  Friday  of  that  week  you  would  hardly  have 
known  any  of  them.  The  fat  ones  were  thin- 
ner and  the  thin  ones  fatter,  and  Miss  Julia  Sum- 
mers could  put  her  whole  hand  inside  her  belt. 

And  they  were  pleasant.  They'd  sit  down  to  a 
supper  of  ham  and  eggs  and  apple  sauce,  and  yell 
for  more  apple  sauce,  and  every  evening  in  the 
billiard  room  they  got  up  two  weighing  pools,  one 
for  the  ones  who  wanted  to  reduce,  and  one  for  the 
people  who  wanted  to  gain.  Everybody  put  in  a 
dollar,  and  at  gymnasium  hour  the  next  morning 
the  ones  "who'd  gained  or  lost  the  most  wTon  the  pool. 
Mr.  Thoburn  won  the  losing  pool  on  Thursday  and 
Friday — he  didn't  want  to  lose  weight,  but  he  was 
compelled  to  under  the  circumstances.  And  I  think 
worry  helped  him  to  it. 

They  fussed  some  still  about  sleeping  with  the 
282 


THE   FIRST    FRUITS  283 

windows  open,  especially  the  bald-headed  men. 
However,  the  bishop,  who  had  been  bald  for  thirty 
years,  was  getting  a  fine  down  all  over  the  top  of 
his  head,  and  this  encouraged  the  rest.  The  bishop 
says  it  is  nature's  instinct  to  protect  itself  from  cold 
— all  animals  have  fur,  and  heavier  fur  in  winter — 
and  h'e  believed  that  it  was  the  ultimate  cure  for 
baldness.  Men  lose  their  hair  on  top,  he  said,  be- 
cause they  wear  hats,  and  so  don't  need  it.  But  let 
the  top  of  the  head  need  protection,  and  lo,  hair 
comes  there.  Although,  as  Mr.  Thoburn  said,  his 
nose  was  always  cold  in  winter,  and  nature  never 
did  anything  for  it. 

Mr.  von  Inwald  was  still  there,  and  not  troubling 
himself  to  be  agreeable  to  any  but  the  Jennings 
family.  He  and  Mr.  Pierce  carefully  avoided  each 
other,  but  I  knew  well  enough  that  only  policy  kept 
them  apart.  Both  of  them,  you  see,  were  working 
for  something. 

Miss  Cobb  came  to  the  spring-house  early  Friday 
morning,  and  from  the  way  she  came  in  and  shut 
the  door  I  knew  she  had  something  on  her  mind. 
She  walked  over  to  where  I  was  polishing  the  brass 
railing  around  the  spring — it  had  been  the  habit  of 


284         WHERE   THERE'S    A   iWILU 

years,  and  not  easy  to  break — and  stood  looking  at 
me  and  breathing  hard. 

"Minnie,"  she  exclaimed,  "I  have  found  the 
thief!" 

"Lord  have  mercy!"  I  said,  and  dropped  the  brass 
polish. 

"I  have  found  the  thief!"  she  repeated  firmly. 
"Minnie,  our  sins  always  find  us  out." 

"I  guess  they  do,"  I  said  shakily,  and  sat  down  on 
the  steps  to  the  spring.  "Oh,  Miss  Cobb,  if  only  he 
would  use  a  little  bit  of  sense!" 

"He?"  she  said.  "He  nothing!  It's  that  Sum- 
mers woman  I'm  talking  about,  Minnie.  I  knew 
that  woman  wasn't  what  she  ought  to  be  the  minute 
I  set  eyes  on  her." 

"The  Summers  woman !"  I  repeated. 

Miss  Cobb  leaned  over  the  railing  and  shook  a 
finger  in  my  face. 

"The  Summers  woman,"  she  said.  "One  of  the 
chambermaids  found  my — my  protectors  hanging  in 
the  creature's  closet!" 

I  couldn't  speak.  There  had  been  so  much  hap- 
pening that  I'd  clean  forgotten  Miss  Cobb  and  her 
woolen  tights.  And  now  to  have  them  come  back 


THE   FIRST    FRUITS  285 

like  this  and  hang  themselves  around  my  neck,  so  to 
speak — it  was  too  much. 

"Per — perhaps  they're  hers,"  I  said  weakly  after 
a  minute. 

"Stuff  and  nonsense!"  declared  Miss  Cobb. 
"Don't  you  think  I  know  my  own,  with  L.  C.  in 
white  cotton  on  the  band,  and  my  own  darning  in 
the  knee  where  I  slipped  on  the  ice?  And  more 
than  that,  Minnie,  where  those  tights  are,  my  letters 
are!" 

I  glanced  at  the  pantry,  where  her  letters  were 
hidden  on  the  upper  shelf.  The  door  was  closed. 

"But — but  what  would  she  want  with  the  letters?" 
I  asked,  with  my  teeth  fairly  hitting  together.  Miss 
Cobb  pushed  her  forefinger  into  my  shoulder. 

"To  blackmail  me,"  she  said,  in  a  tragic  voice,  "or 
perhaps  to  publish.  I've  often  thought  of  that  my- 
self— they're  so  beautiful.  Letters  from  a  life  in- 
surance agent  to  his  lady-love — interesting,  you 
know,  and  alliterative.  As  for  that  woman — !" 

"What  woman !"  said  Miss  Summers'  voice  from 
behind  us.  We  jumped  and  turned.  "I  always 
save  myself  trouble,  so  if  by  any  chance  you  are  dis- 
cussing me — " 


286         WHERE    THERE'S    A    WILL 

"As  it  happens,"  Miss  Cobb  said,  glaring-  at  her, 
"I  was  discussing  you." 

"Fine !"  said  Miss  Julia.  "I  love  to  talk  about  my- 
self." 

"I  doubt  if  it's  an  edifying  subject,"  Miss  Cobb 
snapped. 

Miss  Julia  looked  at  her  and  smiled. 

"Perhaps  not,"  she  said,  "but  interesting.  Don't 
put  yourself  out  to  be  friendly  to  me,  Miss  Cobb,  if 
you  don't  feel  like  it." 

"Are  you  going  to  return  my  letters?"  Miss  Cobb 
demanded. 

"Your  letters?" 

"My  letters — that  you  took  out  of  my  room!" 

"Look  here,"  Miss  Julia  said,  still  in  a  good  hu- 
mor, "don't  you  suppose  I've  got  letters  of  my  own, 
without  bothering  with  another  woman's?" 

"Perhaps,"  Miss  Cobb  replied  in  triumph,  "per- 
haps you  will  say  that  you  don't  know  anything  of 
my — of  my  black  woolen  protectors  ?" 

"Never  heard  of  them!"  said  Miss  Summers. 
"What  are  they?"  And  then  she  caught  my  eye, 
and  I  guess  I  looked  stricken.  "Oh !"  she  said. 


THE   FIRST    FRUITS  287 

"Miss  Cobb  was  robbed  the  other  night,"  I  ex- 
plained, as  quietly  as  I  could.  "Somebody  went 
into  her  room  and  took  a  bundle  of  letters." 

"Letters!"  Miss  Summers  straightened  and 
looked  at  me. 

"And  my  woolen  tights,"  said  Miss  Cobb  indig- 
nantly, "with  all  this  cold  weather  and  military 
walks,  and  having  to  sit  two  hours  a  day  by  an  open 
window!  And  I'll  tell  you  this,  Miss  Summers, 
your  dog  got  in  my  room  that  night,  and  while  I 
have  no  suspicions,  the  chambermaid  found  my — er 
— missing  garment  this  morning  in  your  closet !" 

"I  don't  believe,"  Miss  Julia  said,  looking  hard  at 
me,  "that  Arabella  would  steal  anything  so — er — • 
grotesque!  Do  you  mean  to  say,"  she  added 
slowly,  "that  nothing  was  taken  from  that  room  but 
the — lingerie  and  a  bundle  of  letters  ?" 

"Exactly,"  said  Miss  Cobb,  "and  I'd  thank  you 
for  the  letters." 

"The  letters!"  Miss  Julia  retorted.     "I've  never i 
been  in  your  room.     I  haven't  got  the  letters.     I've 
never  seen  them."     Then  a  light  dawned  in  her  face. 
"I — oh,  it's  the  funniest  ever!" 


288        WHERE  THERE'S   rA  &VJLL 

And  with  that  she  threw  her  head  back  and 
laughed  until  the  tears  rolled  down  her  cheeks  and 
she  held  her  side. 

"Screaming!"  she  gasped.  "It's  screaming !  But, 
oh,  Minnie,  to  have  seen  your  face !" 

Miss  Cobb  swept  to  the  door  and  turned  in  a  f  ury. 

"I  do  not  think  it  is  funny,"  she  stormed,  "and  I 
shall  report  to  Mr.  Carter  at  once  what  I  have  dis- 
covered." 

She  banged  out,  and  Miss  Julia  put  her  head  on  a 
card-table  and  writhed  with  joy.  "To  have  seen 
your  face,  Minnie!"  she  panted,  wiping  her  eyes. 
"To  have  thought  you  had  Dick  Carter's  letters, 
that  I  keep  rolled  in  asbestos,  and  then  to  have 
opened  them  and  found  they  were  to  Miss  Cobb!" 

"Be  as  happy  as  you  like,"  I  snapped,  "but  you 
are  barking  up  the  wrong  tree.  I  don't  know  any- 
thing about  any  letters  and  as  far  as  that  goes,  do 
you  think  I've  lived  here  fourteen  years  to  get  into 
the  wrong  room  at  night?  If  I'd  wanted  to  get 
into  your  room,  I'd  have  found  your  room,  not  Miss 
Cobb's." 

She  sat  up  and  pulled  her  hat  straight,  looking  me 
right  in  the  eye. 


THE   FIRST   FRUITS  289 

"If  you'll  recall,"  she  said,  "I  came  into  the 
spring-house,  and  Arabella  pulled  that — garment  of 
Miss  Cobb's  off  a  table.  It  was  early — nobody  was 
out  yet.  You  were  alone,  Minnie,  or  no,"  she  said 
suddenly,  "you  were  not  alone.  Minnie,  who  was  in 
the  pantry?" 

"What  has  that  to  do  with  it?"  I  managed,  with 
my  feet  as  cold  as  stone. 

She  got  up  and  buttoned  her  sweater. 

"Don't  trouble  to  lie,"  she  said.  "I  can  see 
through  a  stone  wall  as  well  as  most  people.  Who- 
ever got  those  letters  thought  they  were  stealing 
mine,  and  there  are  only  two  people  who  would  try 
to  steal  my  letters ;  one  is  Dick  Carter,  and  the  other 
is  his  brother-in-law.  It  wasn't  Sam  in  the  pantry — 
he  came  in  just  after  with  his  little  snip  of  a  wife." 

"Well?"  I  managed. 

But  she  was  smiling  again,  not  so  pleasantly. 

"I  might  have  known  it !"  she  said.  "What  a  fool 
I've  been,  Minnie,  and  how  clever  you  are  under 
that  red  thatch  of  yours !  Dicky  can  not  appear  as 
long  as  I  am  here,  and  Pierce  takes  his  place,  and  I 
help  to  keep  the  secret  and  to  play  the  game !  Well, 
I  can  appreciate  a  joke  on  myself  as  well  as  most 


290         WHERE    THERE'S    A    WILL 

people,  but — Minnie,  Minnie,  think  of  that  guilty 
wretch  of  a  Dicky  Carter  shaking  in  the  pantry !" 

"I  don't  know  what  you  are  talking  about,"  I 
said,  but  she  only  winked  and  went  to  the  door. 

"Don't  take  it  too  much  to  heart,"  she  advised. 
"Too  much  loyalty  is  a  vice,  not  a  virtue.  And  an- 
other piece  of  advice,  Minnie — when  I  find  Dicky 
Carter,  stand  from  under;  something  will  fall." 

They  had  charades  during  the  rest  hour  that 
afternoon,  the  overweights  headed  by  the  bishop, 
against  the  underweights  headed  by  Mr.  Moody. 
They  selected  their  words  from  one  of  Horace 
Fletcher's  books,  and  as  Mr.  Pierce  wasn't  either 
over  or  undenveight,  they  asked  him  to  be  referee. 

Oh,  they  were  crazy  about  him  by  that  time.  It 
was  "Mr.  Carter"  here  and  "dear  Mr.  Carter"  there, 
with  the  women  knitting  him  neckties  and  the  men 
coming  up  to  be  bullied  and  asking  for  more.  And 
he  kept  the  upper  hand,  too,  once  he  got  it.  It  was 
that  day,  I  think,  that  he  sent  Senator  Biggs  up  to 
make  his  bed  again,  and  nobody  in  the  place  will 
ever  forget  how  he  made  old  Mr.  Jennings  hang  his 
gymnasium  suit  up  three  times  before  it  was  done 
properly.  The  old  man  was  mad  enough  at  the 


THE    FIRST    FRUITS  291 

time,  but  inside  of  twenty  minutes  he  was  offering 
Mr.  Pierce  the  cigar  he'd  won  in  the  wood-chopping 
contest. 

But  if  Mr.  Pierce  was  making  a  hit  with  the 
guests,  he  wasn't  so  popular  with  the  Van  Alstynes 
or  the  Carters.  The  night  the  cigar  stand  was 
closed  Mr.  Sam  came  to  me  and  leaned  over  the 
counter. 

"Put  the  key  in  a  drawer,"  he  said.  "I  can  slip 
down  here  after  the  lights  are  out  and  get  a  smoke." 

"Can't  do  it,  Mr.  Van  Alstyne,"  I  said.  "Got 
positive  orders." 

"That  doesn't  include  me."  He  was  still  per- 
fectly good-humored. 

"Sorry,"  I  said.  "Have  to  have  a  written  order 
from  Mr.  Pierce." 

He  put  a  silver  dollar  on  the  desk  between  us  and 
looked  at  me  over  it. 

"Will  that  open  the  case?"  he  asked.  But  I  shook 
my  head. 

"Well,  I'll  be  hanged!  What  the  devil  sort  of 
order  did  he  give  you?" 

"He  said,"  I  repeated,  "that  I'd  be  coaxed  and 
probably  bribed  to  open  the  cigar  case,  and  that 


292         WHERE   THERE'S   A   .WILL 

you'd  probably  be  the  first  one  to  do  it,  but  I  was 
to  stick  firm;  you've  been  smoking  too  much,  and 
your  nerves  are  going." 

"Insolent  young  puppy!"  he  exclaimed  angrily, 
and  stamped  away. 

So  that  I  was  not  surprised  when  on  that  night, 
Friday,  I  was  told  to  be  at  the  shelter-house  at  ten 
o'clock  for  a  protest  meeting.  Mrs.  Sam  told  me. 

"Something  has  to  be  done,"  she  said.  "I  don't 
intend  to  stand  much  more.  Nobody  has  the  right 
to  say  when  I  shall  eat  or  what.  If  I  want  to  eat 
fried  shoe  leather,  that's  my  affair." 

We  met  at  ten  o'clock  at  the  shelter-house,  every- 
body having  gone  to  bed — Miss  Patty,  the  Van  Al- 
stynes  and  myself.  The  Dicky s  were  on  good  terms 
again,  for  a  wonder,  and  when  we  went  in  they 
were  in  front  of  the  fire,  she  on  a  box  and  he  at  her 
feet,  with  his  head  buried  in  her  lap.  He  didn't 
even  look  up  when  we  entered. 

"They're  here,  Dicky,"  she  said. 

"All  right !"  he  answered  in-  a  smothered  voice. 
"How  many  of  'em?" 

"Four,"  she  said,  and  kissed  the  tip  of  his  ear. 

"For  goodness  sake,  Dick!"  Mr?.  Sam  snapped 


THE    FIRST    FRUITS  293 

in  a  disgusted  tone,  "stop  that  spooning  and  get  us 
something  to  sit  on." 

"Help  yourself,"  he  replied,  still  from  his  wife's 
lap,  "and  don't  be  jealous,  sis.  If  the  sight  of  mar- 
ried happiness  upsets  you,  go  away.  Go  away,  any- 
how." 

Mr.  Sam  came  over  and  jerked  him  into  a  sitting 
position.  "Either  you'll  sit  up  and  take  part  in  this 
discussion,"  he  said  angrily,  "or  you'll  go  out  in 
the  snow  until  it's  over." 

Mr.  Dick  leaned  over  and  kissed  his  wife's  hand. 

"A  cruel  fate  is  separating  us,"  he  explained,  "but 
try  to  endure  it  until  I  return.  I'll  be  on  the  other 
side  of  the  fireplace." 

Miss  Patty  came  to  the  fire  and  stood  warm- 
ing her  hands.  I  saw  her  sister  watching  her. 

"What's  wrong  with  you,  Pat  ?"  she  asked.  "Os- 
kar  not  behaving?" 

"Don't  be  silly,"  Miss  Patty  said.  "I'm  all  right." 

"She's  worked  to  death,"  Mrs.  Sam  put  in. 
"Look  at  all  of  us.  I'll  tell  you  I'm  so  tired  these 
nights  that  by  nine  o'clock  I'm  asleep  on  my  feet." 

"I'm  tired  to  death,  but  I  don't  sleep,"  Miss  Patty 
said.  "I — I  don't  know  why." 


294         WHERE    THERE'S    A    WILL 

"I  do,"  her  sister  said.  "If  you  weren't  so 
haughty,  Pat,  and  would  just  own  up  that  you're 
sick  of  your  bargain — " 

"Dolly !"  Miss  Patty  got  red  and  then  white. 

"Oh,  all  right,"  Mrs.  Dicky  said,  and  shrugged 
her  shoulders.  "Only,  I  hate  to  see  you  make  an 
idiot  of  yourself,  when  I'm  so  happy." 

Mr.  Dick  made  a  move  at  that  to  go  across  the 
fireplace  to  her,  but  Mr.  Sam  pushed  him  back  where 
he  was. 

"You  stay  right  there,"  he  said.  "Here's  Pierce 
now." 

He  came  in  smiling,  and  as  he  stood  inside  the 
door,  brushing  the  snow  off,  it  was  queer  to  see  how 
his  eyes  went  around  the  circle  until  he'd  found 
Miss  Patty  and  stopped  at  her. 

Nobody  answered  his  smile,  and  he  came  over  to 
the  fire  beside  Miss  Patty. 

"Great  night!"  he  said,  looking  down  at  her. 
"There's  something  invigorating  in  just  breathing 
that  wind." 

"Do  you  think  so?"  Mrs.  Sam  said  disagreeably. 
"Of  course,  we  haven't  all  got  your  shoulders." 

"That's  so,"   he  answered,   turning  to  her.      "I 


THE    FIRST    FRUITS  295 

said  you  women  should  not  come  so  far.  We  could 
have  met  in  my  sitting-room." 

"You  forget  -one  thing,"  Mr.  Dick  put  in  dis- 
agreeably, "and  that  is  that  this  meeting  concerns 
me,  and  I  can  not  very  well  go  to  your  sitting- 
room." 

"Fact,"  said  Mr.  Pierce,  "I'd  forgotten  about  you 
for  the  moment." 

"You  generally  do,"  Mr.  Dick  retorted.  "If  you 
want  the  truth,  Pierce,  I'm  about  tired  of  your 
high-handed  methods." 

Mr.  Pierce  set  his  jaw  and  looked  down  at  him. 

"Why?  I've  saved  the  place,  haven't  I?  Why, 
look  here,"  he  said,  and  pulled  out  a  couple  of  let- 
ters, "these  are  the  first  fruits  of  those  that  weep — 
in  other  words,  per  aspcra  ad  astra!  Two  new 
guests  coming  the  last  of  the  week — want  to  be  put 
in  training!" 

Well,  that  was  an  argument  nobody  could  find 
fault  with,  but  their  grievance  was  about  them- 
selves and  they  couldn't  forgive  him.  They  turned 
on  him  in  the  most  heartless  way — even  Miss  Patty 
— and  demanded  that  he  give  them  special  privi- 
leges— breakfast  when  they  wanted  it,  and  Mr.  Sam 


296         WHERE    THERE'S    A   .WILL 

the  key  to  the  bar.  And  he  stood  firm,  as  he  had 
that  day  in  the  lobby,  and  let  the  storm  beat  around 
him,  looking  mostly  at  Miss  Patty.  It  was  more 
than  I  could  bear. 

"Shame  on  all  of  you !"  I  said.  "He's  done  what 
he  promised  he'd  do,  and  more.  If  he  did  what  he 
ought,  he'd  leave  this  minute,  and  let  you  find  out 
for  yourself  what  it  is  to  drive  thirty-odd  different 
stomachs  and  the  same  number  of  bad  dispositions 
in  one  direction." 

"You  are  perfectly  right,  Minnie,"  Miss  Patty 
said.  "We're  beastly,  all  of  us,  and  I'm  sorry." 
She  went  over  and  held  out  her  hand  to  him. 
"You've  done  the  impossible,"  she  told  him.  He 
beamed. 

"Your  approval  means  more  than  anything,"  he 
said,  holding  her  hand.  Mrs.  Dick  sat  up  and 
opened  her  eyes  wide. 

"Speaking  of  Oskar,"  she  began,  and  then 
stopped,  staring  past  her  sister,  toward  the  door. 

We  all  turned,  and  there,  blinking  in  the  light, 
was  Miss  Summers. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

OVER  THE  FENCE  IS  OUT 

"TTTELL!"  she  said,  and  stood  staring.   Then 

V  T  she  smiled — I  guess  our  faces  were  funny. 

"May  I  come  in?"  she  asked,  and  without  waiting 
she  came  in  and  closed  the  door.  "You  do  look 
cozy!"  she  said,  and  shook  herself  free  of  snow. 

Mr.  Dick  had  turned  white.  He  got  up  with  his 
eyes  on  her,  and  twice  he  opened  his  mouth  and 
couldn't  speak.  He  backed,  still  watching  her,  to 
his  wife,  and  stood  in  front  of  her,  as  if  to  protect 
hen 

Mr.  Sam  got  his  voice  first. 

"B — bad  night  for  a  walk,"  he  said. 

"Frightful!"  she  said.  "I've  been  buried  to  my 
knees.  May  I  sit  down?"  To  those  of  us  who 
knew,  her  easy  manner  had  something  horrible  in  it. 

"Sorry  there  are  no  chairs,  Julia,"  Mr.  Pierce 
said.  "Sit  on  the  cot,  won't  you  ?" 

297 


298         WHERE   THERE'S   A   WILL 

"Who  is  it?"  Mrs.  Dick  asked  from,  as  you  may 
say,  her  eclipse.  She  and  Miss  Summers  were  the 
only  calm  ones  in  the  room. 

"I — I  don't  know,"  Mr.  Dick  stammered,  but  the 
next  moment  Miss  Julia,  from  the  cot,  looked  across 
at  him  and  grinned. 

"Well,  Dicky!"  she  said.  "Who'd  have  thought 
it!" 

"You  said  you  didn't  know  her!"  his  wife  said 
from  behind  him. 

"Who'd  have  thought  wha — what?"  he  asked 
with  bravado. 

"All  this !"  Miss  Julia  waved  her  hand  around  the 
room,  with  its  bare  walls,  and  blankets  over  the 
windows  to  keep  the  light  in  and  the  cold  out,  and 
the  circle  of  us  sitting  around  on  sand  boxes  from 
the  links  and  lawn  rollers.  "To  find  you  here,  all 
snug  in  your  own  home,  with  your  household  gods 
and  a  wife."  Nobody  could  think  of  anything  to 
say.  "That  is,"  she  went  on,  "I  believe  there  is  a 
wife.  Good  heavens,  Dicky,  it  isn't  Minnie?" 

He  stepped  aside  at  that,  disclosing  Mrs.  Dick 
on  her  box,  with  her  childish  eyes  wide  ppen. 


OVER  THE  FENCE  IS  OUT   299 

"There — there  is  a  wife,  Julia,"  he  said.  "This  is 
her— she." 

Well,  she'd  come  out  to  make  mischief — it  was 
written  all  over  her  when  she  came  in  the  door,  but 
when  Mr.  Dick  presented  his  wife,  frightened  as  he 
was  and  still  proud  of  her,  and  Mrs.  Dick  smiled 
in  her  pretty  way,  Miss  Summers  just  walked  across 
and  looked  down  at  her  with  a  queer  look  on  her 
face.  I  shut  my  eyes  and  waited  for  the  crash,  but 
nothing  came,  and  when  I  opened  them  again  there 
were  the  two  women  holding  hands  and  Miss  Sum- 
mers smiling  a  sort  of  crooked  grin  at  Mr.  Dick. 

"I  ought  to  be  very  angry  with  your  husband," 
she  said.  "I — well,  I  never  expected  him  to  marry 
without  my  being  among  those  present.  But  since 
he  has  done  it — !  Dick,  you  wretched  boy,  you 
took  advantage  of  my  being  laid  up  with  the 
mumps !" 

"Mumps!"  Mrs.  Dick  said.  "Why,  he  has  just 
had  them  himself!"  She  looked  around  the  circle 
suspiciously,  and  every  one  of  us  looked  as  guilty 
as  if  he  had  been  caught  with  the  mumps  concealed 
around  him  somewhere. 


300         WHERE   THERE'S    A    WILL 

"I  didn't  have  real  mumps,"  Mr.  Dick  explained. 
"It  was  only — er — a  swelling." 

"You  said  it  was  mumps,  and  even  now  you  hate 
pickles!" 

Mr.  Pierce  had  edged  over  to  Miss  Summers  and 
patted  her  shoulder. 

"Be  a  good  sport,  Julia,"  he  whispered. 

She  threw  off  his  hand. 

"I'm  being  an  idiot!"  she  said  angrily.  "Dick's 
an  ass,  and  he's  treated  me  like  a  villain,  but  look  at 
that  baby!  It  will  be  twenty  years  before  she  has 
to  worry  about  her  weight." 

"I  never  cared  for  pickles,"  Mr.  Dick  was  saying 
with  dignity.  "The  doctor  said — " 

"I  think  we'd  better  be  going."  Miss  Patty  got 
up  and  gathered  up  her  cloak.  But  if  she  meant  to 
break  up  the  party  Miss  Summers  was  not  ready. 

"If  you  don't  mind,"  she  said,  "I'll  stay.  I'm 
frozen,  and  I've  got  to  go  home  and  sleep  with  my 
window  up.  You're  lucky,"  she  went  on  to  the 
Dickys.  "I  dare  say  the  air  in  here  would  scare  us 
under  a  microscope,  but  at  least  it  is  warm." 

The  Van  Alstynes  made  a  move  to  go,  but  Mr. 


OVER  THE  FENCE  IS  OUT   301 

Dicky  frantically  gestured  to  them  not  to  leave  him 
alone,  and  Mrs.  Sam  sat  down  again  sulkily.  Mr. 
Pierce  picked  up  his  cap. 

"I'll  take  you  back,"  he  said  to  Miss  Patty,  and 
his  face  was  fairly  glowing.  But  Miss  Patty 
slipped  her  arm  through  mine. 

'"Come,  Minnie,  Mr.  Pierce  is  going  to  take  us," 
she  said. 

"I'd — I'd  rather  go  alone,*'  I  said. 

'"Nonsense." 

'Tin  not  ready.  I've  got  to  gather  up  these 
dishes,"  I  objected.  Out  of  the  corner  of  my  eye  I 
could  see  the  glow  dying  out  of  Mr.  Pierce's  face. 
But  Miss  Patty  took  my  arm  and  led  me  to  the  door. 

"Let  them  gather  up  their  own  dishes,"  she  said. 
"Dolly,  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  to  let  Minnie  slave 
for  you  the  way  she  does.  Good  night,  everybody." 

I  did  my  best  to  leave  them  alone  on  the  way  back, 
but  Miss  Patty  stuck  close  to  my  heels.  It  was 
snowing,  and  the  going  was  slow.  For  the  first  five 
minutes  she  only  spoke  once. 

"And  so  Miss  Summers  and  Dicky  Carter  are  old 
friends!" 


302 

"It  appears  so,"  Mr.  Pierce  said. 

"She's  rather  magnanimous,  under  the  circum- 
stances," Miss  Patty  remarked  demurely. 

"Under  what  circumstances?" 

I  heard  her  laugh  a  little,  behind  me. 

"Never  mind,"  she  said.  "You  needn't  tell  me 
anything  you  don't  care  to.  But  what  a  stew  you 
must  all  have  been  in !" 

There  was  a  minute's  silence  behind  me,  and  then 
Mr.  Pierce  laughed  too. 

"Stew!"  he  said.  "For  the  last  few  days  I've 
been  either  paralyzed  with  fright  or  electrified  into 
wild  bursts  of  mendacity.  And  I'm  not  naturally  a 
liar." 

"Really!"  she  retorted.  "What  an  actor  you 
are!" 

They  laughed  together  at  that,  and  I  gained  a 
little  on  them.  At  the  corner  where  the  path  skirted 
the  deer  park  and  turned  toward  the  house  I  lost 
them  altogether  and  I  floundered  on  alone.  But  I 
had  not  gone  twenty  feet  when  I  stopped  suddenly. 
About  fifty  yards  ahead  a  lantern  was  coming 
toward  me  through  the  snow,  and  I  could  hear  a 
man's  voice,  breathless  and  gasping. 


OVER  THE  FENCE  IS  OUT   303 

"Set  it  down,"  it  said.  "The  damned  thing  must 
be  filled  with  lead."  It  sounded  like  Thoburn. 

"It's  the  snow,"  another  voice  replied,  Mr.  von 
Inwald's.  "I  told  you  it  would  take  two  trips." 

"Yes,"  Thoburn  retorted,  breathing  in  groans. 
"Stay  up  all  night  to  get  the  blamed  stuff  here,  and 
then  get  up  at  dawn  for  a  cold  bath  and  a  twenty- 
mile  walk  and  an  apple  for  breakfast  Ugh,  my 
shoulder  is  dislocated." 

I  turned  and  flew  back  to  Miss  Patty  and  Pierce. 
They  had  stopped  in  the  shelter  of  the  fence  corner 
and  Mr.  Pierce  was  on  his  knees  in  front  of  her !  I 
was  so  astounded  that  I  forgot  for  the  moment  what 
had  brought  me. 

"Just  a  second,"  he  was  saying.  "It's  ice  on  the 
heel." 

"Please  get  up  off  your  knees,  you'll  take  cold." 

"Never  had  a  cold.  I'll  scrape  it  off  with  my 
knife.  Why  don't  you  wear  overshoes?" 

"I  never  have  a  cold!"  she  retorted.  "Why, 
Minnie,  is  that  you?" 

"Quick,"  I  panted.  "Thoburn  and  Mr.  von  In- 
wald  coming — basket — lantern — warn  the  shelter- 
house  !" 


304 

"Great  Scott !"  Mr.  Pierce  said.  "Here,  you  girls 
crawl  over  the  fence:  you'll  be  hidden  there.  I'll 
run  back  and  warn  them." 

The  lantern  was  swinging  again.  Mr.  Thoburn's 
grumbling  came  to  us  through  the  snow,  monot- 
onous and  steady. 

"I  can't  climb  the  fence!"  Miss  Patty  said  piti- 
fully. But  Mr.  Pierce  had  gone. 

I  reached  my  basket  through  the  bars  and  climbed 
the  fence  in  a  hurry.  Miss  Patty  had  got  almost  to 
the  top  and  was  standing  there  on  one  snow-covered 
rail,  staring  across  at  me  through  the  darkness. 

"I  can't,  Minnie/'  she  whispered  hopelessly, 
never  could  climb  a  fence,  and  in  this  skirt — !" 

"Quick!"  I  said  in  a  low  tone.  The  lantern  was 
very  close.  "Put  your  leg  over." 

She  did,  and  sat  there  looking  down  at  me  like  a 
scared  baby. 

"Now  the  other." 

"I — I  can't!"  she  whispered.  "If  I  put  them  both 
over  I'll  fall." 

"Hurry!" 

With  a  little  grunt  she  put  the  other  foot  over, 
sat  a  minute  with  agony  in  her  face  and  her  arms 


OVER  THE  FENCE  IS  OUT   305 

out,  then  she  slid  off  with  a  squeal  and  brought  up 
in  a  sitting  position  inside  the  fence  corner.  I 
dropped  beside  her. 

"What  was  that  noise?"  said  Mr.  Thoburn,  al- 
most upon  us.  "Something's  moving  inside  that 
fence  corner." 

"It's  them  deers,"  Mike's  voice  this  time.  We 
could  make  out  the  three  figures.  "Darned  nui- 
sance, them  deers  is.  They'd  have  been  shot  long 
ago  if  the  spring-house  girl  hadn't  objected.  She 
thinks  she's  the  whole  cheese  around  here." 

"Set  it  down  again,"  Mr.  von  Inwald  panted.  We 
heard  the  rattle  of  bottles  as  they  put  down  the 
basket,  and  the  next  instant  Thoburn's  fat  hand  was 
resting  on  the  rail  of  the  fence  over  our  heads.  I 
could  feel  Miss  Patty  trembling  beside  me. 

But  he  didn't  look  over.  He  stood  there  resting, 
breathing  hard,  and  swearing  at  the  weather,  while 
Mike  waited,  in  surly  silence,  and  the  von  Inwald 
cursed  in  German. 

After  my  heart  had  been  beating  in  my  ears  for 
about  three  years  the  fat  hand  moved,  and  I  heard 
the  rattle  of  glass  again  and  Thoburn's  groan  as  fct 
bent  over  his  half  of  the  load. 


306         WHERE   THERE'S   A  .WILL 

'  'Come  on,  my  partners  in  distress, 
My  comrades  through  this  wilderness/  ' 

he  said,  and  the  others  grunted  and  started  on. 

When  they  had  disappeared  in  the  snow  we  got 
out  of  our  cramped  position  and  prepared  to  scurry 
home.  I  climbed  the  fence  and  looked  after  them. 
"Humph !"  I  said,  "I  guess  that  basket  isn't  for  the 
hungry  poor.  I'd  give  a  good  bit  to  know — "  Then 
I  turned  and  looked  for  -Miss  Patty.  She  was  flat 
on  the  snow,  crawling  between  the  two  lower  rails 
of  the  fence. 

"Have  you  no  shame  ?"  I  demanded. 

She  looked  up  at  me  with  her  head  and  half  her 
long  sealskin  coat  through  the  fence. 

"None,"  she  said  pitifully.  "Minnie,  I'm  stuck 
perfectly  tight !" 

"You  ought  to  be  left  as  you  are,"  I  said,  jerking 
at  her,  "for  people  to  come" — jerk — "to-morrow  to 
look  at" — jerk.  She  came  through  at  that,  and  we 
lay  together  in  the  snow  and  like  to  burst  a  rib 
laughing. 

"You'll  never  be  a  princess,  Miss  Patty,"  I  de- 
clared. "You're  too  lowly  minded." 


OVER  THE  FENCE  IS  OUT   307 

She  sat  up  suddenly  and  straightened  her  sealskin 
cap  on  her  head. 

"I  wish,"  she  said  unpleasantly,  "I  wish  you 
wouldn't  always  drag  in  disagreeable  things,  Min- 
nie!" 

And  she  was  sulky  all  the  way  to  the  house. 

Miss  Summers  came  to  my  room  that  night  as  I 
was  putting  my  hot-water  bottle  to  bed,  in  a  baby- 
blue  silk  wrapper  with  a  band  of  fur  around  the  low 
neck — Miss  Summers,  of  course,  not  the  hot-water 
bottle. 

"Well !"  she  said,  sitting  down  on  the  foot  of  the 
bed  and  staring  at  me.  "Well,  young  woman,  for  a 
person  who  has  never  been  farther  away  than  Fin- 
leyville  you  do  pretty  well !" 

"Do  what?"  I  asked,  with  the  covers  up  to  my 
chin. 

"Do  what,  Miss  Innocence!"  she  said  mockingly. 
"You're  the  only  red-haired  woman  I  ever  saw  who 
didn't  look  as  sophisticated  as  the  devil.  I'll  tell 
you  one  thing,  though."  She  reached  down  into  the 
pocket  of  her  dressing-gown  and  brought  up  a 
cigarette  and  a  match.  "You  never  had  me  fooled 
for  a  minute !"  She  looked  at  me  over  the  match. 


308         WHERE   THERE'S    A    WILL 

I  lay  and  stared  back. 

"And  another  thing,"  she  said.  "I  never  had  any 
real  intention  of  marrying  Dicky  Carter  and  raising 
a  baby  sanatorium.  I  wouldn't  have  the  face  to  ask 
Arabella  to  live  here." 

"I'm  glad  you  feel  that  way,  Miss  Summers,"  I 
said.  "I've  gone  through  a  lot ;  I'm  an  old  woman 
in  the  last  two  weeks.  My  hair's  falling  from  its 
having  to  stand  up  on  end  half  the  time." 

She  leaned  over  and  put  her  cigarette  on  the  back 
of  my  celluloid  mirror,  and  then  suddenly  she  threw 
back  her  head  and  laughed. 

"Minnie!"  she  said,  between  fits,  "Minnie!  As 
long  as  I  live  I'll  never  forget  that  wretched  boy's 
face!  And  the  sand  boxes!  And  the  blankets 
over  the  windows!  And  the  tarpaulin  over  the 
rafters!  And  Mr.  Van  Alstyne  sitting  on  the  lawn- 
mower!  I'd  rather  have  had  my  minute  in  that 
doorway  than  fifty  thousand  dollars !" 

"If  you  had  had  to  carry  out  all  those  things — " 
I  began,  but  she  checked  me. 

"Listen !"  she  said.  "Somebody  with  brains  has 
got  to  take  you  young  people  in  hand.  You're  not 
able  to  look  after  yourselves.  I'm  fond  of  Alan 


OVER  THE  FENCE  IS  OUT   309 

Pierce,  for  one  thing,  and  I  don't  care  to  see  a  sana- 
torium that  might  have  been  the  child  of  my  solici- 
tude kidnaped  and  reared  as  a  summer  hotel  by 
Papa  Thoburn.  A  good  fat  man  is  very,  very  good, 
Minnie,  but  when  he  is  bad  he  is  horrid." 

"It's  too  late,"  I  objected  feebly.  "He  can't  get 
it  now." 

"Can't  he !"  She  got  up  and  yawned,  stretching. 
"Well,  I'll  lay  you  ten  to  one  that  if  we  don't  get 
busy  he'll  have  the  house  empty  in  thirty-six  hours, 
and  a  bill  of  sale  on  it  in  as  many  days." 

The  celluloid  mirror  blazed  up  at  that  minute,  and 
she  poured  the  contents  of  my  water-pitcher  over 
the  dresser.  For  the  next  hour,  while  I  was  empty- 
ing water  out  of  the  bureau  drawers  and  hanging 
up  my  clothes  to  dry,  she  told  me  what  she  knew  of 
Thoburn's  scheme,  and  it  turned  me  cold. 

But  I  went  to  bed  finally.  Just  as  I  was  dozing 
off,  somebody  opened  my  door,  and  I  heard  a  curi- 
ous sci^p/ig  along  the  floor.  I  turned  on  the  light, 
and  there  was  Arabella,  half-dragging  and  half- 
carrying  a  solid  silver  hand-mirror  with  a  card 
on  it :  "To  Minnie,  to  replace  the  one  that  blew 
up.  J.S." 


CHAPTER   XXVII 

A  CUPBOARD  FULL  OF  RYE 

DOCTOR  BARNES  came  to  me  at  the  news 
stand  the  next  morning  before  gymnasium. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "you  look  as  busy  as  a  dog  with 
fleas.  Have  you  heard  the  glad  tidings?" 

"What?"  I  asked  without  much  spirit  "I've 
heard  considerable  tidings  lately,  and  not  much  of  it 
has  cheered  me  up  any." 

He  leaned  over  and  ran  his  fingers  up  through 
his  hair. 

"You  know,  Miss  Minnie,"  he  said,  "somebody 
ought  kindly  to  kill  our  friend  Thoburn,  or  he'll 
come  to  a  bad  end." 

"Shall  I  do  it,  or  will  you?"  I  said,  filling  up  the 
chewing-gum  jar.  (Mr.  Pierce  had  taken  away  the 
candy  case.) 

Doctor  Barnes  glanced  around  to  see  if  there  was 
any  one  near,  and  leaned  farther  over. 

310 


A   CUPBOARD   FULL   OF   RYE      311 

"The  cupboard  isn't  empty  now !"  he  said.  "Not 
for  nothing1  did  I  spend  part  of  the  night  in  the 
Dicky-bird's  nest!  By  the  way,  did  you  ever  hear 
that  touching  story  about  little  Sally  walking  up 
and  laying  an  egg  ? — I  see  you  have.  What  do  you 
think  is  in  the  cupboard  ?" 

"I  know  about  it,"  I  said  shortly.  "Liquor — in 
a  case  labeled  'Books — breakable.' ' 

"  'Sing  a  song  of  sixpence,  a  cupboard  full  of 
rye !'  "  he  said.  "Almost  a  goal !  But  not  only 
liquors,  my  little  friend.  Champagne— ^ases  of  it 
—caviar,  canned  grouse  with  truffles,  lobster, 
cheeses,  fine  cigars,  everything  you  could  think  of, 
erotic,  exotic  and  narcotic.  An  orgy  in  cans  and 
bottles,  a  bacchanalian  revel :  a  cupboard  full  of  in- 
digestion, joy,  forget  fulness  and  katzen  jammer. 
Oh,  my  suffering  palate,  to  have  to  leave  it  all  with- 
out one  sniff,  one  sip,  one  nibble!" 

"He's  wasting  his  money,"  I  said.  "They're  all 
crazy  about  the  simple  life." 

He  looked  around  and,  seeing  no  one  in  the  lobby, 
reached  over  and  took  one  of  my  hands. 

"Strange,"  he  said,  looking  at  it.  "No  webs,  and 
yet  it's  been  an  amphibious  little  creature  most  of  its 


3i2         WHERE   THERE'S    A   WILL 

life.  My  dear  girl,  our  friend  Thoburn  is  a  rascal, 
but  he  is  also  a  student  of  mankind  and  a  philoso- 
pher. Gee,"  he  said,  "think  of  a  woman  fighting 
her  way  alone  through  the  world  with  a  bit  of  a  fist 
like  that !" 

I  jerked  my  hand  away. 

"It's  like  this,  my  dear,"  he  said.  "Human  na- 
ture's a  curious  thing.  It's  human  nature,  for  in- 
stance, for  me  to  be  crazy  about  you,  when  you're 
as  hands-offish  as  a  curly  porcupine.  And  it  is  hu- 
man nature,  by  the  same  token,  to  like  to  be  bullied, 
especially  about  health,  and  to  respect  and  admire 
the  fellow  who  does  the  bullying.  That's  why  we 
were  crazy  about  Roosevelt,  and  that's  why  Pierce 
is  trailing  his  kingly  robes  over  them  while  they  lie 
on  their  faces  and  eat  dirt — and  stewed  fruit." 

He  reached  for  my  hand  again,  but  I  put  it  be- 
hind me. 

"But  alas,"  he  said,  "there  is  another  side  to 
human  nature,  and  our  friend  Thoburn  has  not  kept 
a  summer  hotel  for  nothing.  It  is  notoriously  weak, 
especially  as  to  stomach.  You  may  feed  'em  prunes 
and  whole- wheat  bread  and  apple  sauce,  and  after  a 
while  they'll  forget  the  fat  days,  and  remember  only 


A   CUPBOARD    FULL   OF    RYE      313 

the  lean  and  hungry  ones.  But  let  some  student  of 
human  nature  at  the  proper  moment  introduce  just 
one  fat  day,  one  feast,  one  revel — " 

"Talk  English,"  I  said  sharply. 

"Don't  break  in  on  my  flights  of  fancy,"  he  ob- 
jected. "If  you  want  the  truth,  Thoburn  is  going 
to  have  a  party — a  forbidden  feast.  He's  going  to 
rouse  again  the  sleeping  dogs  of  appetite,  and  send 
them  ravening  back  to  the  Plaza.,  to  Sherry's  and 
Del's  and  the  little  Italian  restaurants  on  Sixth 
Avenue.  He's  going  to  take  them  up  on  a  high 
mountain  and  show  them  the  wines  and  delicatessen 
of  the  earth,  and  then  ask  them  if  they're  going  to 
be  bullied  into  eating  boiled  beef  and  cabbage." 

"Then  I  don't  care  how  soon  he  does  it,"  I  said 
despondently.  "I'd  rather  die  quickly  than  by 
inches." 

"Die!"  he  said.  "Not  a  bit  of  it.  Remember, 
our  friend  Pierce  is  also  a  student  of  human  nature. 
He's  thinking  it  out  now  in  the  cold  plunge,  and  I 
miss  my  guess  if  Thoburn's  sky-rocket  hasn't  got  a 
stick  that'll  come  back  and  hit  him  on  the  head." 

He  had  been  playing  with  one  of  the  chewing-gum 
jars,  and  when  he  had  gone  I  shoved  it  back  into  its 


3i4        WHERE   THERE'S    A    WILL 

place.  It  was  by  the  merest  chance  that  I  glanced 
at  it,  and  I  saw  that  he  had  slipped  a  small  white  box 
inside.  I  knew  I  was  being  a  silly  old  fool,  but  my 
heart  beat  fast  when  I  took  it  out  and  looked  at  it. 
On  the  lid  was  written  "For  a  good  girl,"  and  inside 
lay  the  red  puffs  from  Mrs.  Yost's  window  down  in 
Finleyville.  Just  under  them  was  an  envelope.  I 
could  scarcely  see  to  open  it. 

"Dearest  Minnie,"  the  note  inside  said,  "I  had 
them  matched  to  my  own  thatch,  and  I  think  they'll 
match  yours.  And  since,  in  the  words  of  the  great 
Herbert  Spencer,  things  that  match  the  same  thing 
match  each  other — !  What  do  you  say? — Barnes." 

"P.  S. — I  love  you.  I  feel  like  a  damn  fool  say- 
ing it,  but  heaven  knows  it's  true." 

"P.  P.  S. — Still  love  you.  It's  easier  the  second 
time." 

"N.  B. — I  love  you — got  the  habit  now  and  can't 
stop  writing  it. — B." 

Well,  I  had  to  keep  calm  and  attend  to  business, 
but  I  was  seething  inside  like  a  Seidlitz  powder. 
Every  few  minutes  I'd  reread  the  letter  under  the 
edge  of  the  stand,  and  the  more  I  read  it  the  more 
excited  I  got.  When  a  woman's  gone  past  thirty 
before  she  gets  her  first  love-letter,  she  isn't  sure 


A   CUPBOARD    FULL    OF    RYE      315 

whether  to  thank  providence  or  the  man,  but  she's 
pretty  sure  to  make  a  fool  of  herself. 

Thoburn  came  to  the  news  stand  on  his  way  put 
with  the  ice-cutting  gang  to  the  pond. 

"Last  call  to  the  dining-car,  Minnie,"  he  said. 
"  'Will  you — won't  you — will  you — won't  you — 
will  you  join  the  dance  ?' ' 

"I  haven't  any  reason  for  changing  my  plans,"  I 
retorted.  "I  promised  the  old  doctor  to  stick  by  the 
place,  and  I'm  sticking." 

"As  the  man  said  when  he  sat  down  on  the  fly- 
paper. You're  going  by  your  heart,  Minnie,  and 
not  by  your  head,  and  in  this  toss,  heads  win." 

But  with  my  new  puffs  on  the  back  of  my  head, 
and  my  letter  in  my  pocket,  I  wasn't  easy  to  dis- 
courage. Thoburn  shouldered  his  pick  and,  headed 
by  Doctor  Barnes,  the  ice-cutters  started  out  in 
single  file.  As  they  passed  the  news  stand  Doctor 
Barnes  glanced  at  me,  and  my  heart  almost  stopped. 

"Do  they — is  it  a  match?"  he  asked,  with  his  eyes 
on  mine. 

I  couldn't  speak,  but  I  nodded  "yes,"  and  all  that 
afternoon  I  could  see  the  wonderful  smile  that  lit 


316         WHERE    THERE'S    A    WILL 

up  his  face  as  he  went  out.  It  made  him  almost 
good-looking.  Oh,  there's  nothing  like  love,  espe- 
cially if  you've  waited  long  enough  to  be  hungry 
for  it,  and  not  spoiled  your  taste  for  it  by  a  bite  here 
and  a  piece  of  a  heart  there,  beforehand,  so  to  speak. 

Miss  Cobb  stopped  at  the  news  stand  on  her  way 
to  the  gymnasium.  She  was  a  homely  woman  at 
any  time,  and  in  her  bloomers  she  looked  like  a 
soup-bone.  Under  ordinary  circumstances  she'd 
have  seen  the  puffs  from  the  staircase  and  have 
asked  what  they  cost  and  told  me  they  didn't  match, 
in  one  breath.  But  she  had  something  else  on  her 
mind.  She  padded  over  to  the  counter  in  her  gym 
shoes,  and  for  once  she'd  forgotten  her  legs. 

"May  I  speak  to  you,  Minnie?"  she  asked. 

"You  mostly  do,"  I  said.  "There  isn't  a  new  rule 
about  speaking,  is  there?" 

"This  is  important,  Minnie,"  she  said,  rolling  her 
eyes  around  as  she  always  did  when  she  was  excited. 
"I'm  in  such  a  state  of  ex — I  see  you  bought  the 
puffs!  Perhaps  you  will  lend  them  to  me  if  we 
arrange  for  a  country  dance." 

"They  don't  match,"  I  objected.  "They— they 
wouldn't  look  natural,  Miss  Cobb." 


A    CUPBOARD    FULL    OF    RYE      317 

"They  don't  look  natural  on  you,  either.  Do  you 
suppose  anybody  believes  that  the  Lord  sent  you 
hair  in  seventeen  rows  of  pipes,  so  that,  red  as  it  is, 
it  looks  like  an  instantaneous  water-heater?" 

"I'm  not  lending  them,"  I  said  firmly.  It  would 
have  been  like  lending  an  engagement  ring,  to  my 
mind.  Miss  Cobb  was  not  offended.  She  went  at 
once  to  what  had  brought  her,  and  bent  over  the 
counter. 

"Where's  the  Summers  woman?"  she  asked. 

"In  the  gym.  She's  made  herself  a  new  gym  suit 
out  of  her  polka  dotted  silk,  and  she  looks  lovely." 

"Humph!"  retorted  Miss  Cobb.  "Minnie,  you 
love  Miss  Jennings  almost  like  a  daughter,  don't 
you?" 

"Like  a  sister,  Miss  Cobb,"  I  said.  "I'm  not 
feeble  yet." 

"Well,  you  wouldn't  want  to  see  her  deceived." 

"I  wouldn't  have  it,"  I  answered. 

"Then  what  do  you  call  this?"  She  put  a  small 
package  on  the  counter,  and  stared  at  me  over  it. 
"There's  treachery  here,  black  treachery."  She 
pointed  one  long  thin  forefinger  at  the  bundle. 

"What  is  it?     A  bomb?"  I  asked,  stepping  back. 


318         WHERE   THERE'S    A   WILL 

More  than  once  it  had  occurred  to  me  that  having 
royalty  around  sometimes  meant  dynamite.  Miss 
Cobb  showed  her  teeth. 

"Yes,  a  bomb,"  she  said.  "Minnie,  since  that 
creature  took  my  letters  and  my — er — protectors,  I 
have  suspected  her.  Now  listen.  Yesterday  I  went 
over  the  letters  and  I  missed  one — that  beautiful  one 
in  verse,  beginning,  'Oh,  creature  of  the  slender 
form  and  face !'  Minnie,  it  had  disappeared — melted 
away." 

"I'm  not  surprised,"  I  said. 

"And  so,  last  night,  when  the  Summers  woman 
was  out,  goodness  knows  where,  Blanche  Moody 
and  I  went  through  her  room.  We  did  not  find  my 
precious  missive  from  Mr.  Jones,  but  we  did  find 
these,  Minnie,  tied  around  with  a  pink  silk  stock- 
ing." 

"Heavens!"  I  said,  mockingly.  "Not  a  pink 
silk!" 

"Pink,"  she  repeated  solemnly.  "Minnie,  I  have 
felt  it  all  along.  Mr.  Oskar  von  Inwald  is  the  prince 
himself." 

"No!" 

"Yes.     And  more  than  that,  he  is  making  des- 


A   CUPBOARD    FULL    OF   RYE      319 

perate  love  to  Miss  Summers.  Three  of  those  let- 
ters were  written  in  one  day!  Why,  even  Mr. 
Jones — " 

"The  wretch!"  I  cried.  I  was  suddenly  savage. 
I  wanted  to  take  Mr.  von  Inwald  by  the  throat  and 
choke  him  until  his  lying  tongue  was  black,  to  put 
the  letters  where  Miss  Patty  could  never  see  them. 
I  wanted — I  had  to  stop  to  sell  Senator  Biggs  some 
chewing-gum,  and  when  he  had  gone,  Miss  Cobb 
was  reaching  out  for  the  bundle.  I  snatched  it  from 
her. 

"Give  me  those  letters  instantly,"  she  cried  shrilly. 
But  I  marched  from  behind  the  counter  and  over  to 
the  fireplace. 

"Never,"  I  said,  and  put  the  package  on  the  log. 
When  they  were  safely  blazing,  I  turned  and  looked 
at  Miss  Cobb. 

"I'd  put  my  hand  right  beside  those  letters  to 
save  Miss  Patty  a  heartache,"  I  said,  "and  you 
know  it." 

"You're  a  fool."  She  was  raging.  "You'll  let 
her  marry  him  and  have  the  heartaches  afterward." 

"She  won't  marry  him,"  I  snapped,  and  walked 
away  with  my  chin  up,  leaving  her  staring. 


320         WHERE   THERE'S    A    WILL 

But  I  wasn't  so  sure  as  I  pretended  to  be.  Mr. 
von  Inwald  and  Mr.  Jennings  had  been  closeted  to- 
gether most  of  the  morning,  and  Mr.  von  Inwald 
was  whistling  as  he  started  out  for  the  military 
walk.  It  seemed  as  if  the  very  thing  that  had  given 
Mr.  Pierce  his  chance  to  make  good  had  improved 
Mr.  Jennings'  disposition  enough  to  remove  the  last 
barrier  to  Miss  Jennings'  wedding  with  somebody 
else. 

Well,  what's  one  man's  meat  is  another  man's 
poison. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

LOVE,   LOVE,   LOVE 

EVEN  if  we  hadn't  known,  we'd  have  guessed 
there  was  something  in  the  air.  There  was 
an  air  of  subdued  excitement  during  the  rest  hour 
in  the  spring-house,  and  a  good  bit  of  whispering 
and  laughing,  in  groups  which  would  break  up  with 
faces  as  long  as  the  moral  law  the  moment  they  saw 
my  eye  on  them. 

They  were  planning  a  mutiny,  as  you  may  say, 
and  I  guess  no  sailors  on  a  pirate  ship  were  more 
afraid  of  the  captain's  fist  than  they  were  of  Mr. 
Pierce's  disapproval.  He'd  been  smart  enough  to 
see  that  most  of  them,  having  bullied  other  people 
all  their  lives,  liked  the  novelty  of  being  bullied 
themselves.  And  now  they  were  getting  a  new  thrill 
by  having  a  revolt.  They  were  terribly  worked  up. 

Miss  Patty  stayed  after  the  others  had  gone,  sit- 
ting in  front  of  the  empty  fireplace  in  the  same  chair 

321 


322         WHERE    THERE'S    A    WILL 

Mr.  Pierce  usually  took,  and  keeping  her  back  to  me. 
When  I'd  finished  folding  the  steamer  rugs  and  put- 
ting them  away,  I  went  around  and  stood  in  front 
of  her. 

"Your  eyes  are  red,"  I  remarked. 

"I've  got  a  cold."    She  was  very  haughty. 

"Your  nose  isn't  red,"  I  insisted.  "And,  anyhow, 
you  say  you  never  have  a  cold." 

"I  wish  you  would  let  me  alone,  Minnie."  She 
turned  her  back  to  me.  "I  dare  say  I  may  have  a 
cold  if  I  wish." 

"Do  you  know  what  they  are  saying  here?"  I  de- 
manded. "Do  you  know  that  Miss  Cobb  has  found 
out  in  some  way  or  other  who  Mr.  von  Inwald  is  ? 
And  that  the  four  o'clock  gossip  edition  says  your 
father  has  given  his  consent  and  that  you  can  go 
and  buy  a  diadem  or  whatever  you  are  going  to 
wear,  right  off?" 

"Well,"  she  said,  in  a  choked  voice,  with  her  back 
to  me,  "what  of  it?  Didn't  you  and  Mr.  Pierce 
both  do  your  best  to  bring  it  about  ?" 

"Our  what?"    I  couldn't  believe  my  ears. 

"You  made  father  well.  He's  so  p — pleasant 
he'll  do  anything — except  leave  this  awful  place !" 


LOVE,   LOVE,   LOVE  323 

"Well,  of  all  the  ungrateful  people — "  I  began, 
and  then  Mr.  Pierce  came  in.  He  had  a  curious 
way  of  stopping  when  he  saw  her,  as  if  she  just  took 
the  wind  out  of  his  sails,  so  to  speak,  and  then  of 
whipping  off  his  hat,  if  anything  with  sails  can  wear 
a  hat,  and  going  up  to  her  with  his  heart  in  his  eyes. 
He  always  went  straight  to  her  and  stopped  sud- 
denly about  two  feet  away,  trying  to  think  of  some- 
thing ordinary  to  say.  Because  the  extraordinary 
thing  he  wanted  to  say  was  always  on  the  end  of  his 
tongue. 

But  this  day  he  didn't  light  up  when  he  saw  her. 
He  went  through  all  the  other  motions,  but  his 
mouth  was  set  in  a  straight  line,  and  when  he  came 
close  to  her  and  looked  down  his  eyes  were  hard. 
It's  been  my  experience  of  men  that  the  younger 
they  are  the  harder  they  take  things  and  the  more 
uncompromising  they  are.  It  takes  a  good  many 
years  and  some  pretty  hard  knocks  to  make  people 
tolerant. 

"I  was  looking  for  you/'  he  said  to  her.  "The 
bishop  has  just  told  me.  There  are  no  obstacles 
now." 

"None,"  she  said,  looking  up  at  him  with  wretch- 


324         WHERE    THERE'S    A    WILL 

edness  in  her  eyes,  if  he  had  only  seen.  "I  am  very 
happy." 

"She  was  just  saying,"  I  said  bitterly,  "how  grate- 
ful she  was  to  both  of  us." 

"I  don't  understand." 

"It  is  not  hard  to  understand,"  she  said,  smiling. 
I  wanted  to  slap  her.  "Father  was  unreasonable 
because  he  was  ill.  You  have  made  him  well.  I  can 
never  thank  you  enough." 

But  she  rather  overdid  the  joy  part  of  it,  and  he 
leaned  over  and  looked  in  her  face. 

"I  think  I'm  stupid,"  he  said.  "I  know  I'm  un- 
happy. But  isn't  that  what  I  was  to  do — to  make 
them  well  if  I  could?" 

"How  could  anybody  know — "  she  began  an- 
grily, and  then  stopped.  "You  have  done  even 
more,"  she  said  sweetly.  "You've  turned  them  into 
cherubims  and  seraphims.  Butter  wouldn't  melt  in 
their  mouths.  Ugh !  How  I  hate  amiability  raised 
to  the  nth  power!" 

He  smiled.  I  think  it  was  getting  through  his 
thick  man's  skull  that  she  wasn't  so  happy  as  she 
should  have  been,  and  he  was  thrilled  through  and 
through. 


LOVE,   LOVE,    LOVE  325 

"My  amiability  must  be  the  reason  you  dislike 
me!"  he  suggested.  They  had  both  forgotten  me. 

"Do  I  dislike  you?"  she  asked,  raising  her  eye- 
brows. "I  never  really  thought  about  it,  but  I'm 
sure  I  don't."  She  didn't  look  at  him,  she  looked 
at  me.  She  knew  I  knew  she  lied. 

His  smile  faded. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "speaking  of  disliking  amiability, 
you  don't  hate  yourself,  I'm  sure." 

"You  are  wrong,"  she  retorted,  "I  loathe  my- 
self." And  she  walked  to  the  window.  He  took  a 
step  or  two  after  her. 

"Why  do  it  at  all  ?"  he  asked  in  a  low  tone.  "You 
don't  love  him — you  can't.  And  if  it  isn't  love — " 
He  remembered  me  suddenly  and  stopped. 

"Please  go  on,"  she  said  sweetly  from  the  win- 
dow. "Do  not  mind  Minnie.  She  is  my  conscience, 
anyhow.  She  is  always  scolding  me;  you  might 
both  scold  in  chorus." 

"I  wouldn't  presume  to  scold." 

"Then  give  me  a  little  advice  and  look  superior 
and  righteous.  I'm  accustomed  to  that  also." 

"As  long  as  you  are  in  this  mood,  I  can't  give 
you  anything  but  a  very  good  day,"  he  said  angrily, 


326         WHERE   THERE'S    A   .WILL 

and  went  toward  the  door.  But  when  he  had  almost 
reached  it  he  turned. 

"I  will  say  this,"  he  said,  "you  have  known  for 
three  days  that  Mr.  Thoburn  was  going  to  have  a 
supper  to-night,  and  you  didn't  let  us  know.  You 
must  have  known  his  purpose." 

I  guess  I  was  as  surprised  as  she  was.  I'd  never 
suspected  she  knew. 

She  looked  at  him  over  her  shoulder. 

"Why  shouldn't  he  have  a  supper?"  she  demanded 
angrily.  "I'm  starving — we're  all  starving  for  de- 
cent food.  I'm  kept  here  against  my  will.  Why 
shouldn't  I  have  one  respectable  meal?  You  with 
your  wretched  stewed  fruits  and  whole-wheat 
breads!  Ugh!" 

"I'm  sorry.  Thoburn's  idea,  of  course,  is  to  make 
the  guests  discontented,  so  they  will  leave." 

"Oh !"  she  said.  She  hadn't  thought  of  that,  and 
she  flushed.  "At  least,"  she  said,  "you  must  give 
me  credit  for  not  trying  to  spoil  Dick  and  Dolly's 
chance  here." 

"We  are  going  to  allow  the  party  to  go  on,"  he 
said,  still  stiff  and  uncompromising.  It  would  have 
been  better  if  he'd  accepted  her  bit  of  apology. 


LOVE,    LOVE,    LOVE  327 

"How  kind  of  you !  I  dare  say  he  would  have  it, 
anyhow."  She  was  sarcastic  again. 

"Probably.    And  you — will  go?" 

"Certainly." 

"Even  when  the  result — " 

"Oh,  don't  preach !"  she  said,  putting  her  hands  to 
her  ears.  "If  you  and  Minnie  want  to  preach,  why 
don't  you  preach  at  each  other?  Minnie  talks  'love, 
love,  love.'  And  you  preach  health  and  morality. 
You  drive  me  crazy  between  you." 

"Suppose,"  he  said  with  a  gleam  in  his  eyes,  "sup- 
pose /  preach  'love,  love,  love !' ' 

She  put  her  fingers  in  her  ears  again.  "Say  it  to 
Minnie,"  she  cried,  and  turned  her  back  to  him. 

"Very  well,"  he  said.  "Minnie,  Miss  Jennings 
refuses  to  listen,  and  there  are  some  things  I  must 
say.  Once  again  I  am  going  to  register  a  protest 
against  her  throwing  herself  away  in  a  loveless  mar- 
riage. I — I  feel  strongly  on  the  subject,  Minnie." 

She  half  turned,  as  if  to  interrupt.  Then  she 
thought  better  of  it  and  kept  her  fingers  in  her  ears, 
her  face  flushed.  But  he  had  learned  what  he  hoped 
— that  she  could  hear  him. 

"You  ask  me  why  I  feel  so  strongly,  Minnie,  and 


328         WHERE    THERE'S    A    WILL 

you  are  right  to  ask.  Under  ordinary  circumstances, 
Minnie,  any  remark  of  mine  on  the  subject  would 
be  ridiculous  impertinence." 

He  stopped  and  eyed  her  back,  but  she  did  not 
move. 

"It  is  impertinence  under  any  circumstances,  but 
consider  the  provocation.  I  see  a  young,  beautiful 
and  sensitive  girl,  marrying,  frankly  without  love,  a 
man  whom  I  know  to  be  unworthy,  and  you  ask  me 
to  stand  aside  and  allow  it  to  happen !" 

"Are  you  still  preaching?"  she  asked  coldly  over 
her  shoulder.  "It  must  be  a  long  sermon." 

And  then,  knowing  he  had  only  a  moment  more, 
his  voice  changed  and  became  deep  and  earnest.  His 
hands,  that  were  clutching  a  chair-back,  took  a 
stronger  hold,  so  that  the  ends  of  the  nails  were 
white. 

"You  see,  Minnie,"  he  said,  turning  a  little  pale, 
"I — I  love  Miss  Jennings  myself.  You  have  known 
it  a  long  time,  for  you  love  her,  too.  It  has  come 
to  the  point  that  I  measure  the  day  by  the  hours 
when  I  can  see  her.  She  doesn't  care  for  me ;  some- 
times I  think  she  hates  me."  He  paused  here,  but 
Miss  Patty  didn't  move.  "I  haven't  anything  to 


LOVE,    LOVE,    LOVE  329 

offer  a  woman  except  a  clean  life  and  the  kind  of 
love  that  a  woman  could  be  proud  of.  I  have  no 
title—" 

Miss  Patty  suddenly  took  her  fingers  out  of  her 
ears  and  turned  around.  She  was  flushed  and 
shaken,  but  she  looked  past  him  without  blinking  an 
eyelash  to  me. 

"Dear  me,"  she  said,  "the  sermon  must  have  been 
exciting,  Minnie!  You  are  quite  trembly!" 

And  with  that  she  picked  up  her  muff  and  went 
out,  with  not  a  glance  at  him. 

He  looked  at  me. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "that's  over.  She's  angry,  Min- 
nie, and  she'll  never  forgive  me." 

"Stuff!"  I  snapped,  "I  notice  she  waited  to  hear 
it  all,  and  no  real  woman  ever  hated  a  man  for  say- 
ing he  loved  her," 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

A  BIG   NIGHT  TO-NIGHT 

I  CARRIED  out  the  supper  to  the  shelter-house 
as  usual  that  night,  but  I  might  have  saved  my- 
self the  trouble.  Mrs.  Dicky  was  sitting  on  a  box, 
with  her  hair  in  puffs  and  the  folding  card-table  be- 
fore her,  and  Mr.  Dick  was  uncorking  a  bottle  of 
chamgagne  with  a  nail.  There  were  two  or  three 
queer-smelling  cans  open  on  the  table. 

Mrs.  Dick  looked  at  my  basket  and  turned  up  her 
nose. 

"Put  it  anywhere,  Minnie,"  she  said  loftily,  "I 
dare  say  it  doesn't  contain  anything  reckless." 

"Cold  ham  and  egg  salad,"  I  said,  setting  it 
down  with  a  slam.  "Stewed  prunes  and  boiled  rice 
for  dessert.  If  those  cans  taste  as  they  smell,  you'd 
better  keep  the  basket  to  fall  back  on.  Where'd 
you  get  that?" 

330 


A   BIG    NIGHT    TO-NIGHT  331 

Mr.  Dick  looked  at  me  over  the  bottle  and  winked. 

"In  the  next  room,"  he  said,  "iced  to  the  proper 
temperature,  paid  for  by  somebody  else,  and  com- 
ing after  a  two-weeks' drought!  Minnie,  there  isn't 
a  shadow  on  my  joy !" 

"He'll  miss  it,"  I  said.  But  Mr.  Dick  was  pour- 
ing out  three  large  tumblers ful  of  the  stuff,  and  he 
held  one  out  to  me. 

"Miss  it!"  he  exclaimed.  "Hasn't  he  been  out 
three  times  to-day,  tapping  his  little  cache?  And 
didn't  he  bring  out  Moody  and  the  senator  and  von 
Inwald  this  afternoon,  and  didn't  they  sit  in  the 
next  room  there  from  two  to  four,  roaring  songs 
and  cracking  bottles  and  jokes." 

"Beasts!"  Mrs.  Dicky  said  savagely.  "Two 
hours,  and  we  daren't  move!" 

"Drink,  pretty  creature!"  Mr.  Dick  said,  motion- 
ing to  my  glass.  "Don't  be  afraid  of  it,  Minnie;  it's 
food  and  drink." 

"I  don't  like  it,"  I  said,  sipping  at  it.  "I'd  rather 
have  the  spring  water." 

"You'll  have  to  cultivate  a  taste  for  it/'  he  ex- 
plained. "You'll  like  the  second  half  better." 

I  got  it  down  somehow  and  started  for  the  door. 


332         WHERE    THERE'S    A    WILL 

Mr.  Dick  came  after  me  with  something  that 
smelled  fishy  on  the  end  of  a  fork. 

"Better  eat  something,"  he  suggested.  "That 
was  considerable  champagne,  Minnie." 

"Stuff  and  nonsense,"  I  said.  "I  was  tired  and 
it  has  rested  me.  That's  all,  Mr.  Dick." 

"Sure?" 

"Certainly,"  I  said  with  dignity,  "I'm  really 
rested,  Mr.  Dick.  And  happy — I'm  very  happy, 
Mr.  Dick." 

"Perhaps  I'd  better  close  the  door,"  he  said.  "The 
light  may  be  seen — " 

"You  needn't  close  it  until  I've  finished  talking," 
I  said.  "I've  done  my  best  for  you  and  yours,  Mr. 
Dick.  I  hope  you  appreciate  it.  Night  after  night 
I've  tramped  out  here  through  the  snow,  and  lost 
sleep,  and  lied  myself  black  in  the  face — you've  no 
idea  how  I've  had  to  lie,  Mr.  Dick." 

"Come  in  and  shut  the  door,  Dick,"  Mrs.  Dick 
called,  "I'm  freezing." 

That  made  me  mad. 

"Exactly,"  I  said,  glaring  at  her  through  the  door- 
way. "Exactly — I  can  wade  through  the  snow, 
bringing  you  meals  that  you  scorn — oh,  yes,  you 


A   BIG   NIGHT   TO-NIGHT          333 

scorn  them.  What  did  you  do  to  the  basket  to- 
night? Look  at  it,  lying  there,  neglected  in  a  cor- 
ner, with  p — perfectly  good  ham  and  stewed  fruit 
in  it." 

All  of  a  sudden  I  felt  terrible  about  the  way  they 
had  treated  the  basket,  and  I  sat  down  on  the  steps 
and  began  to  cry.  I  remember  that,  and  Mr.  Dick 
sitting  down  beside  me  and  putting  his  arm  around 
me  and  calling  me  "good  old  Minnie,"  and  for  heav- 
en's sake  not  to  cry  so  loud.  But  I  was  past  caring. 
I  had  a  sort  of  recollection  of  his  getting  me  to  stand 
up,  and  our  walking  through  about  twenty-one  miles 
of  snow  to  the  spring-house.  When  we  got  there 
he  stood  off  in  the  twilight  and  looked  at  me. 

"I'm  sorry,  Minnie,"  he  said,  "I  never  dreamed 
it  would  do  that." 

"Do  what?" 

"Nothing.    You're  sure  you  won't  forget?" 

"I  never  forget,"  I  said.  I  had  got  up  the  steps 
by  this  time  and  was  trying  to  figure  why  the  spring- 
house  door  had  two  knobs.  I  hadn't  any  idea  what 
he  meant. 

"Remember,"  he  said,  very  slowly,  "Thoburn  is 
going  to  have  his  party  to-night  instead  of  to-mor- 


334         WHERE   THERE'S    A   .WILL 

row.  Tell  Pierce  that.  To-night,  not  to-morrow." 
I  was  pretty  well  ashamed  when  I  got  in  the 
spring-house  and  sat  down  in  the  dark.  I  kept  say- 
ing over  and  over  to  myself,  so  I'd  not  forget,  "to- 
night, not  to-morrow,"  but  I  couldn't  remember 
what  was  to  be  to-night.  I  was  sleepy,  too,  and  my 
legs  were  cold  and  numb.  I  remember  going  into 
the  pantry  for  a  steamer  rug,  and  sitting  down  there 
for  a  minute,  with  the  rug  around  my  knees  before 
I  started  to  the  house.  And  that  is  all  I  do  remem- 
ber. 

I  was  wakened  by  a  terrible  hammering  in  the 
top  of  my  head.  I  reached  out  for  the  glass  of 
water  that  I  always  put  beside  my  bed  at  night  and 
I  touched  a  door-knob  instead.  Then  I  realized 
that  the  knocking  wasn't  all  in  my  head.  There  was 
a  sort  of  steady  movement  of  feet  on  the  other  side 
of  the  door,  with  people  talking  and  laughing.  And 
above  it  all  rose  the  steady  knock — knock  of  some- 
body beating  on  tin. 

"Can't  do  it."  It  was  the  bishop's  voice.  "I  am 
convinced  that  nothing  but  dynamite  will  open  this 
tin  of  lobster." 


A    BIG    NIGHT    TO-NIGHT  335 

"Just  a  moment,  Bishop,"  Mr.  Thoburn's  voice 
and  the  clink  of  bottles,  "I  have  a  can  opener  some- 
where. You'll  find  the  sauce  a  la  Newburg — " 

"Here,  somebody,  a  glass,  quick!  A  bottle's 
broken !" 

"Did  anybody  remember  to  bring  salt  and  pep- 
per?" 

"Dear  Mr.  Thoburn!"  It  sounded  like  Miss 
Cobb.  "Think  of  thinking  of  all  this!" 

"The  credit  is  not  mine,  dear  lady,"  Mr.  Thoburn 
said.  "Where  the  deuce  is  that  corkscrew?  No, 
dear  lady,  man  makes  his  own  destiny,  but  his  birth 
date  remains  beyond  his  control." 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  somebody  said,  "to  Mr. 
Thoburn's  birthday  being  beyond  his  control !" 

There  was  the  clink  of  glasses,  but  I  had  remem- 
bered what  it  had  been  that  I  was  to  remember.  And 
now  it  was  too  late.  I  was  trapped  in  the  pantry 
of  my  spring-house  and  Mr.  Pierce  was  probably 
asleep.  I  clutched  my  aching  head  and  tried  to 
think.  I  was  roused  by  hearing  somebody  say  that 
Miss  Jennings  had  no  glass,  and  by  steps  nearing  the 
pantry.  I  had  just  time  to  slip  the  bolt. 

"Pantry's  locked !"  said  a  voice. 


336         WHERE   THERE'S    A   WILL 

"Drat  that  Minnie!"  somebody  else  said.  "The 
girl's  a  nuisance." 

"Hush!"  Miss  Summers  said.  "She's  probably 
in  there  now — taking  down  what  we  say  and  what 
we  eat.  Convicting  us  out  of  our  own  mouths." 

I  held  my  breath  and  the  knob  rattled.  Then 
they  found  a  glass  for  Miss  Patty  and  forgot  the 
pantry. 

Under  cover  of  the  next  burst  of  noises  I  tried 
the  pantry  window,  but  it  was  frozen  shut.  Noth- 
ing but  a  hammer  would  have  loosened  it.  I  began 
to  dig  at  it  with  a  wire  hairpin,  but  I  hadn't  much 
hope. 

The  fun  in  the  spring-house  was  getting  fast  and 
furious.  Miss  Summers  was  leaning  against  the 
pantry  door  and  I  judged  that  most  of  the  men  in 
the  room  were  around  her,  as  usual.  I  put  my  ear 
to  the  panel  of  the  door,  and  I  could  pretty  nearly 
see  what  was  going  on.  They  were  toasting  Mr. 
Thoburn,  and  getting  hungrier  every  minute  as  the 
supper  was  put  out  on  the  card-tables. 

"To  the  bottle !"  somebody  said.  "In  infancy,  the 
milk  bottle;  in  our  prime,  the  wine  bottle;  in  our 
dotage,  the  pill  bottle." 


A   BIG    NIGHT    TO-NIGHT  337 

Mr.  von  Inwald  came  over  and  stood  beside  Miss 
Summers,  and  I  could  hear  every  whisper. 

"I  have  good  news  for  you,"  she  said  in  an  under- 
tone. 

"Oh!    And  what?" 

"Sh!  You  may  recall,"  she  said,  "the  series  of 
notes,  letters,  epistles,  with  which  you  have  been 
honoring  me  lately?" 

"How  could  I  forget?  They  were  written  in  my 
heart's  blood!" 

"Indeed!"  Her  voice  lifted  its  eyebrows,  so  to 
speak.  "Well,  somebody  got  in  my  room  last  night 
and  stole  I  dare  say  a  pint  of  your  heart's  blood. 
They're  gone." 

He  was  pretty  well  upset,  as  he  might  be,  and  she 
stood  by  and  listened  to  the  things  he  said,  which, 
if  they  were  as  bad  in  English  as  they  sounded  in 
German,  I  wouldn't  like  to  write  down.  And  when 
he  cooled  down  and  condensed,  as  you  may  say,  into 
English,  he  said  Miss  Jennings  must  have  seen  the 
letters,  for  she  would  hardly  speak  to  him.  And 
Miss  Summers  said  she  hoped  Miss  Jennings  had — 
she  was  too  nice  a  girl  to  treat  shamefully. 

And  after  he  had  left  her  there  alone,  I  heard  a 


338         WHERE    THERE'S    A    WILL 

sort  of  scratching  on  the  door  behind  Miss  Sum- 
mers' back,  and  then  something  being  shoved  under 
the  door.  I  stooped  down  and  picked  it  up.  It  was 
a  key! 

I  struck  a  match,  and  I  saw  by  the  tag  that  it  was 
the  one  to  the  old  doctor's  rooms.  I  knew  right  off 
what  it  meant.  Mr.  Pierce  had  gone  to  bed,  or  pre- 
tended to  throw  them  off  the  track  and  Thoburn 
had  locked  him  in!  Thoburn  hadn't  taken  any 
chances.  He  knew  the  influence  Mr.  Pierce  had 
over  them  all,  and  he  and  his  champagne  and  tin 
cans  had  to  get  in  their  work  before  Mr.  Pierce  had 
another  chance  at  them. 

I  had  no  time  to  wonder  how  Miss  Summers 
knew  I  was  in  the  pantry.  I  tried  the  window  again, 
but  it  wouldn't  work.  Somebody  in  the  spring- 
house  was  shouting,  "  'Hot  butter  blue  beans,  please 
come  to  supper!'  "  and  I  could  hear  them  crowding 
around  the  tables.  I  worked  frantically  with  the 
hairpin,  and  just  then  two  shadowy  figures  outside 
slipped  around  the  corner  of  the  building.  It  was 
Mr.  Pierce  and  Doctor  Barnes ! 

I  darted  back  and  put  my  ear  to  the  door,  but  they 
did  not  come  in  at  once.  Mr.  Thoburn  made  a 


A   BIG    NIGHT    TO-NIGHT          339 

speech,  saying  how  happy  he  was  that  they  were  all 
well  and  able  to  go  back  to  civilization  again,  where 
the  broiled  lobster  flourished  like  a  green  bay  tree 
and  the  prune  and  the  cabbage  were  unknown. 

There  was  loud  applause,  and  then  Senator  Biggs 
cleared  his  throat. 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,  distinguished  fellow 
guests,"  he  began,  "I  suggest  a  toast  to  the  autocrat 
of  Hope  Springs.  It  is  the  only  blot  on  the  even- 
ing, that,  owing  to  the  exigencies  of  the  occasion, 
he  can  not  be  with  us.  Securely  fastened  in  his 
room,  he  is  now  sleeping  the  sleep  that  follows  a 
stomach  attuned  to  prunes,  a  mind  attuned  to  rule." 

"Eat,  drink  and  be  merry!"  somebody  said,  "for 
to-morrow  you  diet!" 

There  was  a  swish  and  rustle,  as  if  a  woman  got 
up  in  a  hurry. 

"Do  you  mean,"  said  Miss  Patty's  clear  voice, 
"that  you  have  dared  to  lock  Mr.  Pier — Mr.  Carter 
in  his  room?" 

"My  dear  young  lady,"  several  of  them  began, 
but  she  didn't  give  them  time. 

"It  is  outrageous,  infamous!"  she  stormed.  I 
didn't  need  to  see  her  to  know  how  she  looked. 


340         WHERE    THERE'S    A    WILL 

"How  dare  you !  Suppose  the  building  should  catch 
fire!" 

"Fire!"  somebody  said  in  a  bewildered  voice. 
"My  dear  young  lady — " 

"Don't  'my  dear  young  lady'  me,"  she  said  an- 
grily. "Father,  Bishop,  will  you  stand  for  this? 
Why,  he  may  jump  out  the  window  and  hurt  him- 
self! Give  me  the  key !" 

Miss  Julia's  fingers  were  beating  a  tatoo  behind 
her,  as  if  she  was  afraid  I  might  miss  it. 

"If  he  jumps  out  he  probably  will  hurt  himself. 
It  is  impossible  to  release  him  now,  Miss  Jennings, 
but  if  you  insist  we  can  have  a  mattress  placed  un- 
der the  window." 

''Thanks,  Thoburn.  It  won't  be  necessary."  The 
voice  came  fiom  the  door,  and  a  hush  fell  on  the 
party.  I  slipped  my  bolt  and  peeped  out.  Framed 
in  the  doorway  was  Mr.  Pierce,  with  Doctor  Barnes 
looking  over  his  shoulder. 

The  people  in  the  spring-house  were  abject. 
That's  the  only  word  for  it.  Craven,  somebody 
suggested  later,  and  they  were  that,  too.  They 
smiled  sickly  grins  and  tried  to  be  defiant,  and  most 
of  them  tried  to  put  down  whatever  they  held  in 


A    BIG    NIGHT    TO-NIGHT          341 

their  hands  and  to  look  innocent.  If  you  ever  saw 
a  boy  when  his  school-teacher  asks  him  what  he  has 
in  his  mouth,  and  multiply  the  boy  thirty  times  in 
number  and  four  times  in  size,  you'll  know  how 
they  looked. 

Mr.  Pierce  never  smiled.  He  wouldn't  let  them 
speak  a  word  in  defense  or  explanation.  He  sim- 
ply lined  them  up  as  he  did  at  gym,  and  sent  them, 
one  by  one,  to  the  corner  with  whatever  they  had 
in  their  hands.  He  made  Mr.  Jennings  give  up  a 
bottle  of  anchovies  that  he'd  stuffed  in  his  pocket, 
and  the  bishop  had  to  come  over  with  a  cheese. 

And  when  it  was  all  over,  he  held  the  door  open 
and  they  went  back  to  the  house.  They  fairly 
ducked  past  him  in  the  doorway,  although  he  hadn't 
said  a  dozen  words.  It  was  a  rout.  The  backbone 
of  the  rebellion  was  broken.  I  knew  that  never 
again  would  the  military  discipline  of  Hope  Springs 
be  threatened.  Thoburn  might  as  well  pack  and  go. 
It  was  Mr.  Pierce's  day. 

Mr.  von  Inwald  was  almost  the  last.  He  stood 
by,  sneering,  with  an  open  bottle  of  olives  in  his 
hand,  watching  the  others  go  out.  Mr.  Pierce  held 
the  door  open  and  eyed  him. 


342         WHERE   THERE'S    A    WILL 

"I'll  trouble  you  to  put  that  bottle  with  the  others, 
in  the  corner,"  Mr.  Pierce  said  sternly. 

They  stood  glaring  at  each  other  angrily. 

"And  if  I  refuse?" 

"You  know  the  rules  here.  If  you  refuse,  there 
is  a  hotel  at  Finleyville." 

Mr.  von  Inwald  glanced  past  Mr.  Pierce  to  where 
Doctor  Barnes  stood  behind  him,  with  his  cauli- 
flower ear  and  his  pugilist's  shoulders.  Then  he 
looked  at  the  bottle  in  his  hand,  and  from  it  to  Miss 
Patty,  standing  haughtily  by. 

"I  have  borne  much  for  you,  Patricia,"  he  said, 
"but  I  refuse  to  be  bullied  any  longer.  I  shall  go  to 
the  hotel  at  Finleyville,  and  I  shall  take  the  little 
olives  with  me."  He  smiled  unpleasantly  at  Mr. 
Pierce,  whose  face  did  not  relax. 

He  walked  jauntily  to  the  door  and  turned,  flour- 
ishing the  bottle.  "The  land  of  the  free  and  the 
home  of  the  brave!"  he  sneered,  raising  the  bottle 
in  the  air.  Standing  jeering  in  the  doorway,  he 
bowed  to  Miss  Patty  and  Mr.  Pierce,  and  put  an 
olive  into  his  mouth. 

But  instantly  he  made  a  terrible  face,  and  clapped 


A    BIG    NIGHT    TO-NIGHT          343 

a  hand  just  in  front  of  his  left  ear.  He  stood  there 
a  moment,  his  face  distorted — then  he  darted  into 
the  night,  and  I  never  saw  him  again. 

"Mumps!"  Doctor  Barnes  ejaculated,  and  stood 
staring  after  him  from  the  steps. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

LET  GOOD  DIGESTION 

THERE  was  no  one  left  but  Miss  Patty.     As 
she  started  out  past  him  with  a  crimson  spot 
in  each  cheek  Mr.  Pierce  put  his  hand  on  her  arm. 
She  hesitated,  and  he  closed  the  door  on  Doctor 
Barnes  and  put  his  back  against  it.    I  had  just  time 
to  slip  back  into  the  pantry  and  shut  myself  in. 
For  a  minute  there  wasn't  a  sound.    Then— 
"I  told  you  I  should  come,"  Miss  Patty  said,  in 
her  haughtiest  manner.     "You  need  not  trouble  to 
be  disagreeable." 

"Disagreeable !"  he  repeated.    "I  am  abject !" 
"I  don't  understand,"  she  said.    "But  you  needn't 
explain.    It  really  does  not  matter." 

"It  matters  to  me.  I  had  to  do  this  to-night.  I 
promised  you  I  would  make  good,  and  if  I  had  let 
this  pass —  Don't  you  see,  I  couldn't  let  it  go." 


344 


LET   GOOD   DIGESTION  345 

"You  can  let  me  go,  now." 

"Not  until  I  have  justified  myself  to  you." 

"I  am  not  interested." 

I  heard  him  take  a  step  or  two  toward  her. 

"I  don't  quite  believe  that,"  he  said  in  a  low  tone. 
"You  were  interested  in  what  I  said  here  this  after- 
noon." 

"I  didn't  hear  it." 

"None  of  it?" 

"Not— not  all." 

"I  spoke,  you  remember,  about  your  sister,  and 
about  Dick—  "  he  paused.  I  could  imagine  her  star- 
ing at  him  in  her  wide-eyed  way. 

"You  never  mentioned  them !"  she  said  scornfully 
and  stopped.  He  laughed,  a  low  laugh,  boyish  and 
full  of  triumph. 

"Ah!"  he  said.  "So  you  did  hear!  I'm  going  to 
say  it  again,  anyhow.  I  love  you,  Patty.  I'm — I'm 
mad  for  you.  I've  loved  you  hopelessly  for  so  long 
that  to-night,  when  there's  a  ray  of  hope,  I'm — I'm 
hardly  sane.  I — " 

"Please!"  she  said. 

"I  love  you  so  much  that  I  waken  at  night  just 


346         WHERE   THERE'S    A   WILL 

to  say  your  name,  over  and  over,  and  when  dawn 
comes  through  the  windows — " 

"You  don't  know  what  you  are  saying!"  she  said 
wildly.  "I  am— still— " 

"I  welcome  the  daylight,"  he  went  on,  talking 
very  fast,  "because  it  means  another  day  when  I  can 
see  you.  If  it  sounds  foolish,  it's — it's  really  lots 
worse  than  it  sounds,  Patty." 

The  door  opened  just  then,  and  Doctor  Barnes' 
voice  spoke  from  the  step. 

"I  say,"  he  complained,  "you  needn't — ' 

"Get  out !"  Mr.  Pierce  said  angrily,  and  the  door 
slammed.  The  second's  interruption  gave  him  time, 
I  think,  to  see  how  far  he'd  gone,  and  his  voice, 
when  he  spoke  again,  was  not  so  hopeful. 

"I'm  not  pleading  my  cause,"  he  said  humbly,  "I 
know  I  haven't  any  cause.  I  have  nothing  to  offer 
you." 

"You  said  this  afternoon,"  Miss  Patty  said  softly, 
"that  you  could  offer  me  the — the  kind  of  love  that 
a  woman  could  be  proud  of." 

She  finished  off  with  a  sort  of  gasp,  as  if  she  was 
shocked  at  herself.  I  was  so  excited  that  my  heart 
beat  a  tatoo  against  my  ribs,  and  without  my  being 


LET    GOOD    DIGESTION  347 

conscious  of  it,  as  you  may  say,  the  pantry  door 
opened  about  an  inch  and  I  found  myself  with  an 
eye  to  the  crack. 

They  were  standing  facing  each  other,  he  all 
flushed  and  eager  and  my  dear  Miss  Patty  pale  and 
trembly.  But  she  wasn't  shy.  She  was  looking 
straight  into  his  eyes  and  her  blessed  lips  were  quiv- 
ering. 

"How  can  you  care?"  she  asked,  when  he  only 
stood  and  looked  at  her.  "I've  been  such  a — such  a 
selfish  beast!" 

"Hush!"  He  leaned  toward  her,  and  I  held  my 
breath.  "You  are  everything  that  is  best  in  the 
world,  and  I — what  can  I  offer  you?  I  have 
nothing,  not  even  this  sanatorium!  No  money,  no 
title—" 

"Oh,  that!"  she  interrupted,  and  stood  waiting. 
"Well,  you — you  could  at  least  offer  yourself!" 

"Patty!" 

She  went  right  over  to  him  and  put  her  hands  on 
his  shoulders. 

"And  if  you  won't,"  she  said,  "I'll  offer  myself 
instead !" 

His  arms  went  around  her  like  a  flash  at  that, 


WHERE   THERE'S    A    WILL 

and  he  kissed  her.  I've  seen  a  good  many  kisses  in 
my  day,  the  spring-house  walk  being  a  sort  of 
lover's  lane,  but  they  were  generally  of  the  quick- 
get-away  variety.  This  was  different.  He  just 
gathered  her  up  to  him  and  held  her  close,  and  if 
she  was  one-tenth  as  much  thrilled  as  I  was  in  the 
pantry  she'd  be  ready  to  die  kissing. 

Then,  without  releasing  her,  he  raised  his  head, 
with  such  a  look  of  victory  in  his  face  that  I  still 
see  it  sometimes  in  my  sleep,  and  his  eye  caught 
mine  through  the  crack. 

But  if  I'd  looked  to  see  him  drop  her  I  was  mis- 
taken. He  drew  her  up  and  kissed  her  again,  but 
this  time  on  the  forehead.  And  when  he'd  let  her 
go  and  she  had  dropped  into  a  chair  and  hid  her 
shining  face  against  the  back,  as  if  she  was  ashamed, 
which  she  might  well  be,  he  stood  laughing  over 
her  bent  head  at  me. 

"Come  out,  Minnie!"  he  called.  "Come  out  and 
hear  the  good  news !" 

"Hear!"  I  said,  "I've  seen  all  the  news  I  want." 

"Gracious !"  Miss  Patty  said,  and  buried  her  head 
again.  But  he  had  reached  the  shameless  stage;  a 
man  who  is  really  in  love  always  seems  to  get  to 


I  don't  deserve  her  for  a  minute. 


LET    GOOD    DIGESTION  349 

that  point  sooner  or  later.  He  stooped  and  kissed 
the  back  of  her  neck,  and  if  his  hand  shook  when 
he  pushed  in  one  of  her  shell  hairpins  it  was  excite- 
ment and  not  fright. 

"I  hardly  realize  it,  Minnie,"  he  said.  "1  don't 
deserve  her  for  a  minute." 

"Certainly  not,"  I  said. 

"He  does."  Miss  Patty's  voice  smothered.  Then 
she  got  up  and  came  over  to  me. 

"There  is  going  to  be  an  awful  fuss,  Minnie," 
she  said.  "Think  of  Aunt  Honoria — and  Oskar!" 

"Let  them  fuss!"  I  said  grandly.  "If  the  worst 
comes,  you  can  spend  your  honeymoon  in  the  shel- 
ter-house. I'm  so  used  to  carrying  meals  there  now 
that  it's  second  nature." 

And  at  that  they  both  made  for  me,  and  as  Mr. 
Pierce  kissed  me  Doctor  Barnes  opened  the  door. 
He  stood  for  a  moment,  looking  queer  and  wild, 
and  then  he  slammed  the  door  and  we  heard  him 
stamping  down  the  steps. 

Mr.  Pierce  had  to  bring  him  back. 

Well,  that's  all  there  is  to  it.  The  place  filled  up 
and  stayed  filled,  but  not  under  Mr.  Pierce.  Mr. 


350         WHERE   THERE'S    A   .WILL 

Jennings  said  ability  of  his  kind  was  wasted  there, 
once  the  place  was  running,  and  set  him  to  build- 
ing a  railroad  somewhere  or  other,  with  him  and 
Miss  Patty  living  in  a  private  car,  and  he  carrying 
a  portable  telephone  with  him  so  he  can  talk  to  her 
every  hour  or  so.  Mr.  Dick  and  his  wife  are  run- 
ning the  sanatorium,  or  think  they  are.  Doctor 
Barnes  is  the  whole  place,  really.  Mr.  Jennings 
was  so  glad  to  have  Miss  Patty  give  up  the  prince 
and  send  him  back  home,  after  he'd  been  a  week 
in  the  hotel  at  Finleyville  looking  as  if  his  face 
would  collapse  if  you  stuck  a  pin  in  it — Mr.  Jen- 
nings was  so  happy,  not  to  mention  having  worked 
off  his  gout  at  the  wood-pile,  that  he  forgave  the 
Dickys  without  any  trouble,  and  even  went  out  and 
had  a  meal  with  them  in  the  shelter-house  before 
they  moved  in,  with  Mr.  Dick  making  the  coffee. 

I  miss  the  spring,  as  I  said  at  the  beginning.  It 
is  hard  to  teach  an  old  dog  new  tricks,  but  with  Miss 
Patty  happy,  and  with  Doctor  Barnes  around — 

Thoburn  came  out  the  afternoon  before  he  left, 
just  after  the  rest  hour,  and  showed  me  how  much 
too  loose  his  waistcoat  had  become. 

"I've  lost,  Minnie,"  he  confessed.     "Lost  fifteen 


LET    GOOD    DIGESTION  351 

pounds  and  the  dream  of  my  life.  But  I've  found 
something,  too." 

"What?" 

"My  waist  line !"  he  said,  and  threw  his  chest  out. 

"You  look  fifteen  years  younger,"  I  said,  and  at 
that  he  came  over  to  me  and  took  my  hand. 

"Minnie,"  he  said,  "maybe  you  and  I  haven't 
always  agreed,  but  I've  always  liked  you,  Minnie — 
always." 

"Thanks,"  I  said,  taking  my  hand  away. 

"You've  got  all  kinds  of  spirit,"  he  said.  "You've 
saved  the  place,  all  right.  And  if  you — if  you  tire 
of  this,  and  want  another  home,  I've  got  one,  twelve 
rooms,  center  hall,  tiled  baths,  cabinet  mantels — I'd 
be  good  to  you,  Minnie.  The  right  woman  could 
do  anything  with  me." 

When  I  grasped  what  he  meant,  I  was  staggered. 

"I'm  sorry,"  I  explained,  as  gently  as  I  could. 
"I'm — I'm  going  to  marry  Doctor  Barnes  one  of 
these  days." 

He  stared  at  me.  Then  he  laughed  a  little  and 
went  toward  the  door. 

"Barnes!"  he  said,  turning.  "Another  redhead, 
by  gad!  Well,  I'll  tell  you  this,  young  woman, 


352         WHERE   THERE'S    A    WILL 

you're  red,  but  he's  redder.  Your  days  for  running 
things  to  suit  yourself  are  over." 

"I'm  glad  of  it,"  I  retorted.  "I  want  to  be  man- 
aged myself  for  a  change.  Somebody,"  I  said,  "who 
won't  be  always  thinking  how  he  feels,  unless  it's 
how  he  feels  toward  me." 

"Bah!    He'll  bully  you." 

"  'It's  human  nature  to  like  to  be  bullied,' "  I 
quoted.  "And  I  guess  I'm  not  afraid.  He's  healthy 
and  a  healthy  man's  never  a  crank." 

"A  case  of  yours  for  health,  eh?"  he  said,  and 
held  out  his  hand. 


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Beloved  Vagabond,  The.     By  William  J.  Locke. 

Ben   Blair.     By  Will  Lillibridge. 

Best  Man,  The.     By  Harold  McGrath. 

Beth   Norvell.     By  Randall  Parrish. 

Betrayal,  The.     By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Better  Man,  The.     By  Cyrus  Townsend  Brady. 

Beulah.     (Illustrated  Edition.)     By  Augusta  J.  Evans. 

Bill  Toppers,  The.     By  Andre  Castaigne. 

Blaze  Derringer.     By  Eugene  P.  Lyle,  Jr. 

Bob  Hampton  of  Placer.     By  Randall  Parrish. 

Bob,  Son   of   Battle.     By  Alfred  Ollivant. 

Brass  Bowl,  The.     By  Louis  Joseph  Vance. 

Bronze  Bell,  The.     By  Louis  Joseph  Vance. 

Butterfly  Man,  The.     By  George  Barr  McCutcheon. 

By   Right  of  Purchase..   By  Harold  Bindloss. 

Cab   No.  44.     By  R.   F.  Foster. 

Calling  of  Dan   Matthews,  The.     By  Harold  Bell  Wright. 

Call   of  the  Blood,  The.     By  Robert  Hichens. 

Cape  Cod   Stories.     By  Joseph   C.Lincoln. 

Cap'n    Erl.     By   Joseph    C.    Lincoln. 

Captain   Warren's  Wards.     By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

Caravaners,  The.     By  the  author  of   "Elizabeth  and  Her  German 

Garden." 

Cardigan.     By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 
Carlton   Case,  The.     By  Ellery  H.   Clark. 
Car  of  Destiny.  The.     By  C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson. 
Carpet    From    Bagdad,    The.      By    Harold    MacGrath. 
Cash    Intrigue,   The.     By  George  Randolph   Chester. 
Casting  Away  of  Mrs.  Leeks  and  Mrs.  Aleshine.  Frank  S.  Stockton. 
Castle  by  the  Sea,  The.     By  H.  B.  Marriot  Watson. 
Challoners,   The.     By  E.   F.   Benson. 
Chaperon,  The.     By  C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson. 
City  of  Six,  The.     By  C.  L.  Canfleld. 


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Max.     By  Katherine   Cecil   Thurston. 

Memoirs  of  Sherlock  Holmes.     By  A.  Conan  Doyle. 

Millionaire  Baby,  The.     By  Anna  Katharine  Green. 

Missioner,    The.     By   E.    Phillips   Oppenheim. 

Miss  Selina   Lue.     By  Maria  Thompson  Daviess. 

Mistress  of  Brae  Farm,  The.     By  Rosa  N.  Carey. 

Money   Moon,  The.     By  Jeffery  Farnol. 

Motor  Maid,  The.     By  C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson. 

Much  Ado  About  Peter.    By  Jean  Webster. 

Mr.  Pratt.     By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

My  Brother's  Keeper.     By  Charles  Tenny  Jackson. 

My  Friend  the  Chauffeur.     By  C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson. 

My  Lady  Caprice  (author  of  the  "Broad  Higway").    Jeffery  Farnol. 

My   Lady  of   Doubt.     By  Randall  Parrish. 

My  Lady  of  the   North.     By  Randall  Parrish. 

My  Lady  of  the  South.     By  Randall  Parrish. 

Mystery  Tales.     By  Edgar  Allen   Poe. 

Nancy  Stair.     By  Elinor  Macartney  Lane. 

Ne"er-Do-Well,  The.     By  Rex  Beach. 

No  Friend   Like  a  Sister.     By  Rosa  N.  Carey. 

Officer  666.     By  Barton  W.  Currie  and  Augustin  McHugh. 

One   Braver  Thing.     By  Richard  Dehan. 

Order   No.   11.     By  Caroline  Abbot   Stanley. 

Orphan,   The.     By   Clarence   E.    Mulford. 

Out  of  the  Primitive.     By  Robert  Ames  Bennett. 

Pam.     By  Bettina  von  Hutten. 

Pam  Decides.     By  Bettina  von  Hutten. 

Pardners.     By  Rex  Beach. 

Partners  of  the  Tide.     By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

Passage  Perilous,  The.     By  Rosa  N.  Carey. 

Passers   By.    By  Anthony  Partridge. 

Paternoster  Ruby,  The.     By  Charles  Edmonds  Walk. 

Patience  of  John   Moreland,  The.     By  Mary  Dillon. 

Paul    Anthony,   Christian.     By  Hiram  W.   Hays. 

Phillip  Steele.     By  James  Oliver  Curwood. 

Phra  the  Phoenician.    By  Edwin  Lester  Arnold. 

Plunderer,  The.     By  Roy  Norton. 

Pole  Baker.     By  Will  N.  Harben. 

Politician,  The.     By  Edith  Huntington  Mason. 

Polly  of  the  Circus.     By  Margaret  Mayo. 

Pool  of  Flame,  The.     By  Louis  Joseh  Vance. 

Poppy..  By  Cynthia  Stockley. 

Power  and  the  Glory,  The.     By  Grace  McGowan  Cooke. 

Price  of  the  Prairie,  The.     By  Margaret  Hill  McCarter. 

Prince  of  Sinners,  A.    By  E.  Phillis  Oppenheim. 

Prince  or  Chauffeur.    By  Lawrence  Perry. 

Princess  Dehra,  The.    By  John  Reed  Scott. 

Princess  Passes,  The.     By  C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson. 

Princess  Virginia.  The.       By  C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson. 

Prisoners  of  Chance.     By  Randall  Parrish. 

Prodigal  Son,  The.    By  Hall  Caine. 

Purple  Parasol,  The.      By  George  Barr  McCutcheon. 


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House   on   Cherry  Street,    The.     By   Amelia  E.   Barr. 

How   Leslie   Loved.     By  Anne  Warner. 

Husbands  of   Edith,   The.     By  George  Barr  McCutcheon. 

Idols.     By  William  J.  Locke. 

Illustrious    Prince,    The.       By   E.    Phillips   Oppenheim. 

Imprudence  of  Prue,  The.     By  Sophie  Fisher. 

Inez.     (Illustrated  Edition.)     By  Augusta  J.  Evans. 

Infelice.     By  Augusta  Evans  Wilson. 

Initials  Only.     By  Anna  Katharine  Green. 

In   Defiance  of  the  King.     By  Chauncey  C.  Hotchkiss. 

Indifference   of   Juliet,   The.     By  Grace  S.   Richmond. 

In  the  Service  of  the  Princess.     By  Henry  C.  Rowland. 

Iron   Woman,  The.     By  Margaret  Deland. 

Ishmael.     (Illustrated.)     By  Mrs.   Southworth. 

Island  of  Regeneration,  The.     By     Cyrus  Townsend  Brady. 

Jack  Spurlock,    Prodigal.     By  Horace  Lorimer. 

Jane  Cable.     By  George  Barr  McCutcheon  . 

Jeanne  of  the  Marshes.     By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Jude  the  Obsoure.     By  Thomas  Hardy. 

Keith  of  the   Border.     By  Randall   Parrish. 

Key  to  the  Unknown,  The.     By  Rosa  N.  Carey. 

Kingdom  of  Earth,  The.     By  Anthony  Partridge. 

King    Spruce.     By   Holman   Day. 

Ladder  of  Swords,   A.     By  Gilbert  Parker. 

Lady  Betty  Across  the  Water.    By  C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson. 

Lady   Merton,  Colonist.     By  Mrs.  Humphrey  Ward. 

Lady  of  Big  Shanty,  The.     By  Berkeley  F.   Smith. 

Langford  of  the  Three  Bars.     By  Kate  and  Virgil  D.  Boyles. 

Land   of   Long  Ago,  The.     By  Eliza  Calvert  Hall. 

Lane  That    Had    No   Turning,  The.     By  Gilbert  Parker. 

Last  Trail,   The.     By  Zane  Grey. 

Last  Voyage  of  the   Donna   Isabel,  The.     By  Randall  Parrish. 

Leavenworth    Case,   The.      By  Anna  Katharine  Green. 

Lin   McLean.     By  Owen  Wister. 

Little   Brown  Jug  at   Kildare,  The.     By  Meredith  Nicholson. 

Loaded    Dice.      By  Ellery  H.    Clarke. 

Lord  Loveland  Discovers  America.     By  C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson. 

Lorimer  of  the   Northwest.     By  Harold  Bindloss. 

Lorraine.     By  Robert  W.    Chambers. 

Lost  Ambassador,  The.     By  E.   Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Love   Under  Fire.     By  Randal)  Parrish. 

Loves  of  Miss  Anne,  The.     By  S.   R.  Crockett. 

Macarla.     (Illustrated  Edition.)     By  Augusta  J.  Evans. 

Mademoiselle   Celeste.     By   Adele   Fere-uson   Knight. 

Maid   at  Arms,  The.     By 'Robert  W.   Chambers. 

Maid  of  Old    New  York,  A.     By  Amelia  E.   Barr. 

Maid  of  the  Whispering    Hills,   The.     By  Vingie  Roe. 

Maids  of  Paradise,  The.      By  Robert  W.   Chambers. 

Making  of  Bobby   Burnit,  The.     By  George  Randolph  Chester. 

Mam'    Linda.     By  Will   N.   Harben. 

Man  Outside,  The.      By  Wyndham  Martyn. 

Man  in  the   Brown   Derby,  The.     By  Wells  Hastings. 

Marriage  a  la  Mode.     By  Mrs.  Humphn'v  Ward. 

Marriage  of  Theodora,  The.     By  Molly  KlHott  Seawell. 

Marriage  Under  the  Terror,  A.     By  Patricia  Wentworth. 

Master  Mummer,  The.     By  E.  Phillips  Onpenheim. 

Masters  of  the  Wheatlands.     By  Harold  Bindloss. 


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Susan  Clegg  and  Her  Friend  Mrs.  Lathrop.     By  Anne  Warner. 

Sword  of  the  Old   Frontier,  A.     By  Randall  Parrish. 

Tales  of  Sherlock  Holmes.     By  A.  Conan  Doyle. 

Tennessee  Shad,  The.     By  Owen  Johnson. 

Tess  of  the  D'Urbervilles.     By  Thomas  Hardy. 

Texlcan,  The.     By  Dane  Coolidge. 

That  Printer  of  Udell's.     By  Harold  Bell  Wright. 

Three   Brothers,  The.     By  Eden  Phillpotts. 

Throwback,  The.     By  Alfred  Henry  Lewis. 

Thurston   of  Orchard  Valley.    By  Harold  Bindloss. 

Title   Market,   The.     By  Emily  Post. 

Torn  Sails.    A  Tale  of  a  Welsh  Village.    By  Allen  Raine. 

Trail  of  the  Axe,  The.    By  Ridgwell  Cullum. 

Treasure  of  Heaven,  The.    By  Marie  Corelli. 

Two-Gun   Man,  The.     By  Charles  Alden  Seltzer. 

Two  Vanrevels,  The.     By  Booth  Tarkington. 

Uncle  William.     By  Jennette  Lee. 

Up  from  Slavery.     By  Booker  T.  Washington. 

Vanity  Box,  The.     By  C.  N.  Williamson. 

Vashti.     By  Augusta  Evans  Wilson. 

Varmint,  The.     By  Owen  Johnson. 

Vigilante  Girl,  A.     By  Jerome  Hart. 

Village  of  Vagabonds,  A.     By  F.  Berkeley  Smith. 

Visioning,  The.     By  Susan  Glaspell. 

Voice  of  the  People,  The.     By  Ellen  Glasgow. 

Wanted — A  Chaperon.     By  Paul  Leicester  Ford. 

Wanted:  A   Matchmaker.     By  Paul  Leicester  Ford. 

Watchers  of  the  Plains,  The.     Ridgwell  Cullum, 

Wayfarers,   The.     By  Mary   Stewart  Cutting. 

Way  of  a  Man,  The.    By  Emerson  Hough. 

Weavers,  The.    By  Gilbert  Parker. 

When  Wilderness  Was  King.     By  Randall  Parrish. 

Where  the  Trail  Divides.     By  Will  Lillibridge. 

White   Sister,   The.     By   Marion   Crawford. 

Window  at  the  White  Cat,  The.    By  Mary  Roberts  Rhinehart. 

Winning   of   Barbara   Worth,   The.    By  Harold  Bell  Wright. 

With   Juliet   in   England.     By  Grace  S.   Richmond. 

Woman   Haters,  The.     By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

Woman   in  Question,  The.     By  John  Reed  Scott. 

Woman  in  the  Alcove,  The.    By  Anna  Katharine  Green. 

Yellow  Circle,  The.     By  Charles  E.  Walk. 

Yellow   Letter,  The.     By  William  Johnston. 

Younger  Set,  The.     By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 


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Reconstructed   Marriage,  A.    By  Amelia  Barr. 

Redemption  of  Kenneth  Gait,  The.    By  Will  N.  Harben. 

Red    House  on   Rowan  Street.     By  Roman   Doubleday. 

Red  Mouse,  The.    By  William  Hamilton  Osborne. 

Red  Pepper  Burns.    By  Grace  S.  Richmond. 

Refugees,  The.    By  A.  Conan  Doyle. 

Rejuvenation  of  Aunt  Mary,  The.    By  Anne  Warner. 

Road  to  Providence,  The.    By  Maria  Thompson  Daviess. 

Romance  of  a   Plain   Man,   The.    By  Ellen  Glasgow. 

Rose   in   the   Ring,   The.     By  George  Barr  McCutcheon. 

Rose  of  Old  Harpeth,  The.     By  Maria  Thompson  Daviess. 

Rose  of  the  World.     By  Agnes  and  Egerton  Castle. 

Round  the  Corner  in  Gay  Street.     By  Grace  S.  Richmond. 

Routledge     Rides  Alone.    By  Will  Livingston  Comfort. 

Running    Fight,    The.     By  Wm.   Hamilton   Osborne. 

Seats  of  the   Mighty,  The.    By  Gilbert  Parker. 

Septimus.    By  William  J.  Locke. 

Set  in  Silver.    By  C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson. 

Self -Raised.     (Illustrated.)     By  Mrs.   Southworth. 

Shepherd  of  the  Hills,  The.     By  Harold  Bell  Wright. 

Sheriff  of  Dyke  Hole,  The.    By  Ridgwell  Cullum, 

Sidney  Carteret,   Rancher.     By  Harold  Bindloss. 

Simon  the  Jester.     By  William  J.  Locke. 

Silver  Blade,  The.    By  Charles  E.  Walk. 

Silver  Horde,  The.    By  Rex  Beach. 

Sir  Nigel.    By  A.  Conan  Doyle. 

Sir   Richard   Calmady.     By  Lucas  Malet. 

Skyman,  The.     By  Henry  Ketchell  Webster. 

Slim  Princess,  The.    By  George  Ade. 

Speckled   Bird,  A.     By  Augusta  Evans  Wilson. 

Spirit  in   Prison,  A.     By  Robert  Hichens. 

Spirit  of  the  Border,  The.    By  Zane  Grey. 

Spirit  Trail,  The.     By  Kate  and  Virgil  D.  Boyles. 

Spoilers,  The.     By  Rex  Beach. 

Stanton  Wins.     By  Eleanor  M.  Ingram. 

St.  Elmo.    (Illustrated  Edition.)     By  Augusta  J.  Evans. 

Stolen   Singer,   The.     By  Martha  Bellinger. 

Stooping  Lady,  The.     By  Maurice  Hewlett. 

Story  of  the  Outlaw,  The.    By  Emerson  Hough. 

Strawberry  Acres.     By  Grace  S.  Richmond. 

Strawberry   Handkerchief,  The.     By  Amelia  E.  Barr. 

Sunnyslde  of  the  Hill,  The.    By  Rosa  N.  Carey. 

Sunset  Trail,  The.    By  Alfred  Henry  Lewis. 


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